


I Do, You Don't

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 58,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Shirley marries a rock & roll star.  Laverne doesn't.
Relationships: Laverne De Fazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Carmine Ragusa
Comments: 221
Kudos: 6





	1. Where's Laverne?

Shirley Wilhelmina Feeney was the last person you would expect to wake up naked in a hotel room. That she was alone made it less shocking but more confusing. This was particularly the case since, at first, all she could recall of the previous night was playing the drums.

She sat up carefully, since she had a headache. Her mouth was very dry and her vision a little blurred. She blinked and thought the bedroom, although classy, was impersonal enough to be a hotel rather than someone's home. She wondered where in LA the hotel was.

She did her best not to panic yet. She was sure there was a logical explanation and it would come back to her once she was more awake. Maybe it would help if she went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face.

It did a little but she was surprised to see how bloodshot her eyes were. She didn't remember drinking last night, but maybe she had drunk so much she'd forgotten it, and almost everything else. She dried her face on a towel and noticed that it said "Ritz-Carlton." She hoped she wasn't paying for this, because she'd never stayed in a fancy hotel before, not counting the time she won a stay at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee.

She didn't feel at all fresh and clean, so she decided to take a shower. She locked the bathroom door just in case she was staying in the hotel with someone and he (she? they?) returned suddenly.

The shower did help her body but her mind was still muddled. She wrapped her body in the largest towel, and made a turban out of the next largest, although her hair was still in the bob she'd worn since high school. Laverne was growing hers out and it looked softer and—

Where was Laverne? Shirley knew she'd seen her best friend the previous evening but then Laverne had walked across a lawn, promising to be back in a couple of minutes. Whose lawn? There was a house with a lot of people. A party maybe?

Shirley emerged from the bathroom and was going to look around the bedroom for clues, when someone knocked at the front door. She saw a white robe hanging in the closet, the sort provided by a nice hotel, so she called, "Just a minute," and slipped the robe on. She went to the door and opened it to a teenage delivery boy.

He handed her a bouquet of red roses and white baby's breath and said, "For you, Ma'am."

"Thank you. Um, I'm afraid I don't have any money on me for a tip."

"It's OK. Your husband included the tip."

"My husband?" She almost dropped the flowers in surprise.

"Yeah, you're a lucky lady. Their new album is really fab!"

She could hear "Your love, love, love fits me like a glove, glove, glove" playing in her mind, like a radio whose signal was faint. "Thank you," she murmured distractedly. She closed the door without saying goodbye. She went back to the bed and sat on the foot, setting the bouquet next to her.

She now remembered two British rock & roll stars showing up at Cowboy Bill's yesterday. She and Laverne were helping out at the restaurant while Mr. DeFazio was away at Cowboy Bill's University. They talked to the two men, Derek DeWoods and London (no last name), despite being starstruck. And when the stars invited them to a Hollywood party, Laverne eagerly accepted. Shirley had worried that they weren't ready for a party like that. The other times that they had gone to social events that were out of their league, starting with a dinner with the Shotzes, had not gone well.

Still, she went with Laverne that night, wearing her new red dress, while Laverne was in black. They got to hear the band play their number one hit live, and talk to Derek and London again.

Her memory got fuzzy after that, but she thought she did remember London and Derek respectively proposing to her and Laverne. They must've said yes, because how else would Shirley have gotten a husband? Perhaps Laverne was in another room at this hotel, with or without her husband.

Shirley looked at the bouquet again and noticed an envelope tucked inside. She plucked it out, carefully avoiding the thorns of the roses. She reached inside and pulled out a note. The handwriting was messy but legible:

_My Little Star Monkey,_

_I'm sorry I had to run off and couldn't give you a proper honeymoon, but I have to go on tour and I can't let the other lads down. I'll be in Los Angeles again in a couple months and we can have a proper reunion. Then I'll sweep you off to London (the city, not the person) and we can go castle-shopping._

_Kisses,  
Derek  
_  
_P.S. I've enclosed a train ticket and cab fare to get to the station, so you can make it home safely._  


She set down the note and tried to absorb the contents. She didn't think much of that pet name, but Carmine had been calling her Angel Face for a decade. She sighed as she thought of Carmine. She would have to break it to him that she had gotten married suddenly. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that herself, but she was sure he was going to be very unhappy. When he and their other friends had shown up and interrupted the shotgun double wedding to Richie and Fonzie, she had loved how Carmine had insisted that she couldn't get married without his permission, but that was three or four years ago and so much had changed. Then again, he had moved out to California to be with her, so she felt guilty about that.

The party had been to celebrate the beginning of London's Bridges' first tour of America, so that part made sense. She noticed that her husband said he'd be returning to LA, and apparently she wasn't in LA if she had to take a train there. She would've dwelt on that part more, but it was the scrawled signature that she was most puzzled by. It definitely didn't look like "London," and London probably wouldn't have referred to himself in a parenthetical thought like that, but she could've sworn that London was the one she was supposed to marry, while Laverne got Derek. What had happened to change that? And did it change how she felt about the marriage?

London was The Cute One and Shirley felt like, from what she'd read in fan magazines, that he was a better match for her, and not just because he was the cutest rock singer since God blessed this Earth with Fabian. Derek was The Cheeky One, and his sense of humour (the Brits put U's in some words) would be a better fit for Laverne. Still, his note was promising. He did seem to really care for her, even if he wasn't great at choosing terms of endearment.

She took out the train ticket and saw that it was leaving at 8:15 a.m. She looked back at the clock radio on the night stand and it said 7:30. It was definitely still morning because it was light out. She looked at the ticket again and noticed that while the destination was indeed Los Angeles, the departure was from San Francisco! She and Laverne had talked about going to Frisco sometime, but they needed to save up money and earn vacation time at Bardwell's Department Store.

She wondered if she'd missed any work. The party had been Saturday evening, so this was presumably Sunday morning, unless she'd blanked out for a longer time than one night. Her job as a gift-wrapper was Monday to Friday, so she should be fine. The ticket said she'd be getting in to LA at nine p.m., and then she'd be able to get a good night's sleep before going in to work on Monday. She would miss waiting tables at Cowboy Bill's that day, Sunday, but hopefully Edna and Laverne could manage on their own.

Where was Laverne? Was it possible she had gone home to Burbank? Maybe she hadn't even made it home from the party yet.

Shirley sighed again, deciding that the only way she'd know for sure was to go back to Burbank herself. The problem was, as far as she knew, she hadn't a thing to wear. Was there possibly a gift shop in the hotel lobby, where she could order a Size Five dress and charge it to Derek? Would they also be willing to send up underwear?

She wished she had more time before the train left, so she could think things through. She decided to at least check the closets and drawers for clothing. The closets just had hangers, but she did find her dress, scarf, stockings, bra, and panties neatly folded in the top drawer of the night stand, lying on the Gideon Bible, which made her blush. She looked under the bed and found her shoes. That was reassuring, that she could walk out of the hotel in her own outfit. In a strange world, any sign of normality was welcome.

Even better, she found her little white purse in another drawer. There wasn't much in it, just cab fare (to get her and Laverne home from the party), her California driver's license (she and Laverne were saving up to buy another car, since they sold their old one after they got fired from Shotz), and a pocket comb. After she got dressed, she combed her hair, which was tousled from sleep and, she blushed at the thought, her wedding night.

She couldn't remember what they had done, not yet. She did feel different, but not the way she always imagined. She did vaguely recall lying in bed naked with Derek, but she knew from the back of the London's Bridges album that he slept "in the raw," so that might not have meant anything.

She took time to gaze out the hotel window before leaving. The morning view of the City was stunning and she wished she could stay and explore. Well, if she was Mrs. Derek DeWoods, she would probably travel around the world! And if Laverne was Mrs. London, then they would still be best friends having adventures together.

She had the clerk at the reception desk call her a cab and then, before going outside to wait, she asked if "anyone with a first or last name of London or Laverne" was registered in the hotel. The clerk shook his head. She sighed and again wondered where Laverne was.


	2. Where's Shirley?

At that very moment, Laverne DeFazio was waking up and wondering where she was herself. Even when she rolled over from her stomach to her side, it took her a minute to recognize the Spanish-style apartment. She was a long way from Milwaukee and this wasn't her old couch, but this Burbank apartment had been her home for the last few months.

Unlike Shirley, Laverne woke up completely dressed, except for her shoes and panties. She was unaware of this, except she did recognize the black dress with white trim. She vaguely remembered putting the dress on the previous evening, to go to a Hollywood party, but she did not as yet remember anything about the party.

She sat up carefully, since she had a splitting headache. "That must've been some party," she muttered.

When the knocking started, she thought it was inside her head. When it repeated, she recognized the rhythm of Carmine's knock. She yelled, "Come in, Carmine," and then winced at her own loudness.

The Big Ragoo, as Carmine Ragusa had been known since his boxing days, let himself in, looked at Laverne, and laughed. "Well, I was gonna ask how the party was, but your face answers that question."

Laverne and Carmine had a close but prickly friendship, based in their mutual love for and protection of Shirley, their own usually unspoken physical attraction, and an almost sibling-like teasing. She was used to his sometimes brutal honesty, so she asked, "Do I look that bad?"

"You look hungover."

She sort of felt hungover, which would explain her memory loss, but it wasn't the comfortingly familiar hangover of too much Shotz. There was something strange, almost exotic, about the way she felt.

"How's Shirley?" Carmine asked with both amusement and concern.

"Um." She remembered Shirley steering her towards the wholesome treat of chocolate brownies, away from more illicit pleasures.

"Where's Shirley?" Carmine now asked, amusement gone.

"She must be upstairs," she said, hoping it was true.

He shook his head and went to the foot of the short staircase leading to the bedroom and bathroom of the girls' split-level apartment. "Shirl!" he called up. When no reply came, he ran up the stairs.

Laverne could've objected that Shirley was probably still in her jammies, but it had very seldom been Laverne's role to play Shirley's chaperone. Also, Carmine and Shirley had been dating since high school and, although he had had to take a lot of cold showers in that decade or so, things had progressed enough with them physically that he was aware that she wore a pair of socks in her bra, and occasionally a Hubba Hubba Heiny over her panties. It was more of a concern at that moment that Shirley might wake up with a hangover, too, and might be annoyed with Carmine, but Laverne would stay out of it for the moment. Laverne did not want to believe that Shirley wasn't upstairs, so she wasn't ready to imagine Carmine finding an empty bedroom.

She was surprised when Carmine came downstairs more slowly and asked, "Who's the guy sleeping in Shirley's bed?"

A faint song played in her head, like a record player on low volume, "...From Heaven up above, 'bove, 'bove, I'm giving you a shove, if you don't give me some love." She asked, "Is he sleeping in the raw or in periwinkle blue jockey shorts?"

Carmine looked at her like that was a crazy question, but he answered, "He's wearing a black suit with a skinny black tie, and a white collared shirt, with his shiny black shoes by the door."

"Oo, that must be Derek DeWoods!" Laverne did remember now London, the lead singer of London's Bridges, showing up at Cowboy Bill's with his cute guitar-player Derek. The lads from Lamberhurst had invited the maids from Milwaukee to a Hollywood party. Laverne was still fuzzy about the party itself, but apparently she had made a big enough hit with one rock star to take him back to Burbank. "Wait a minute, did you say Shirley's bed?"

"Yeah."

"What's she wearing?" Laverne asked, trying not to sound jealous or scandalized.

"I don't know, since she's not there."

"Where is she?"

"How the hell should I know? Laverne, I trust you to look after her."

Laverne felt guilty but she defensively said, "She's a grown woman."

"Yeah, but you know how innocent and trusting she can be."

She did know that, but she said, "Well, isn't it better that she's not in bed with some guy?"

"I don't find it comforting that there's some strange pervert in your apartment."

"Hello," said Andrew Squigman as he appeared in the front doorway.

"Squiggy, you were at the party last night, right?" Laverne asked, vaguely remembering mistaking him and Lenny for Simon and Garfunkel from behind.

"I think so," Squiggy said with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "I seem to be suffering a temporal memory loss."

Laverne nodded, although it hurt. But maybe Squiggy remembered things she didn't. "Squiggy, have you seen Shirley? I mean recently."

"Yeah, last night. She called me a reefer zombie and put my head on her bosom."

"What the hell kind of party was this?" Carmine demanded.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Laverne said. "Squiggy, what else happened at the party?"

"Well, I woke up in a garbanzo."

"Are you sure it was just reefer?" Carmine asked.

Laverne asked, "A garbanzo, Squig?"

"Yeah, you know, one of those bandstands for the home."

"A gazebo?" Carmine suggested.

"Yeah, I was lying under a bench in a gabezo."

Something came loose in Laverne's tangled brain, something about a gazebo, but she couldn't pursue it because it was more important to ask, "Where's Shirley?"

"Oh, she's in Vegas," Squiggy said matter-of-factly.

Laverne stared at him and Carmine demanded, "Las Vegas, Nevada?"

"Well, I presume so. It could've been the Las Vegas in New Mexico. Or the one in Venezuela."

Carmine and Laverne looked at each other, although they both knew that Squiggy had idiot savant moments where he knew things he seemingly shouldn't. Then they looked at Squiggy again and Laverne asked, "Why was she going to Vegas?"

"She was gonna have a quickie wedding."

"Great job looking out for her, Laverne!" Carmine snapped.

Laverne would've defended herself but she did vaguely remember something about a proposal. "Squig, who was Shirley gonna marry?"

"One of the Britannic rock & roll stars throwing the party."

"It must've been London. She's got a huge crush on him."

"Great, just great," Carmine muttered. "Edna said you two just met these guys yesterday!"

"Well, yeah, I guess it is sort of a whirlwind romance." She wondered what had happened with Derek, and why he was upstairs and she was downstairs, but she was pretty sure they hadn't gotten married.

"Yeah, sort of." Carmine shook his head in disbelief.

"Anyway, Laberne," Squiggy said, as if Shirley's elopement were a minor matter, "Lenny asked me to return these." He reached into the pocket of his old leather jacket and took out a pair of black panties.

Carmine's eyebrows went up. "Why did Lenny have Laverne's underwear?"

Squiggy shrugged. "He said it was a panty raid."

"A panty raid? Those went out with the '50s," Carmine scoffed.

"Well, you went out with Shirley in the '50s and you're still goin' out with her. Well, maybe not now that she's marinaded."

"Can I have those?" Laverne asked, blushing.

Squiggy tried to toss the panties to her but they were caught by the man coming down the stairs. "Oh, unidentified flying knickers."

"Malcolm Bridges!" she gasped. The man descending the staircase was indeed wearing black and white, but his hair was brown rather than blond. He'd been at the party of course, but only now did Laverne vaguely recall inviting him over to her place.

"Good morning, Lavinia."

"It's Laverne."

"Sorry, Love, I'm bad with names."

She liked how he called her love, but she knew it didn't mean anything if he couldn't remember her name. "That's all right."

He came over to her and took both her hands, pressing her panties into them. The singsong of his accent was soft and caressing as he said, "I'm sorry to snog and run, but I've got to get to the airport to start the tour. Can you call me a taxi?"

Laverne blushed, partly because she didn't know what "snog" meant although it sounded naughty, but she still managed to say, "You're a taxi."

He chuckled, let go of her hands, and said, "You're a cheeky bird."

Carmine said, "I can drive you there. I've got my roommate's car."

Sonny was doing stunts on a Spaghetti Western in Italy. Laverne had no idea what she would tell him about last night, even after she remembered more. They had agreed not to be exclusive while he was away, but she had the feeling that she had done more than could be easily explained.

Malcolm turned and said, "That'd be fab."

"Don't you need your shoes?" Squiggy asked.

Malcolm looked down at his white-stockinged feet and then over at Squiggy, "Thanks, Mate." He headed back up the stairs.

Laverne waved Carmine over so they could talk without Malcolm or Squiggy overhearing. He went to her and she whispered, "Should I go with you?"

"Nah, you should stay here in case Shirley calls. Besides, I think he'll more likely spill his guts to another man than to a 'bird' he's been 'snogging.' "

She blushed again but asked, "Do you think he knows anything about Shirley's elopement?"

"It's worth trying."

Malcolm returned, with shoes, so Carmine stepped away from Laverne and said, "It's parked out front, the '62 Camaro."

"Gear," Malcolm said.

"Four gears," said Squiggy.

Malcolm shook his head but said, "Lav Love, I'll be back in Los Angeles in a couple months. Can I ring you then?"

"Uh, sure." She thought he was cute but she felt funny not knowing how far they'd gone. Still, it wouldn't hurt to talk on the phone in a few weeks.

"See you then." He blew her a kiss and then Carmine led him through the open doorway.

She was alone with Squiggy, which made her ask, "Where's Lenny?"

"In the bathroom, trying to get rid of his perm."

She thought of Lenny's Garfunkel-curly hair, which she initially thought was a wig. She'd wanted to touch it, but he resisted at first, until "reefer gas" took his inhibitions away. She remembered playing with his curls, as he stroked her deliberately un-sprayed hair. She would've ordinarily sprayed it for a party, but when she saw Derek DeWoods at the restaurant earlier, she had mentioned that she knew he didn't like girls wearing hairspray.

"The restaurant!" she suddenly exclaimed.

"No, the bathroom."

"Squiggy, I'm helping Edna at Cowboy Bill's this weekend while my pop's away. Can you stay in my apartment in case Shirley calls?"

"Why would she call on her honeymoon?"

It was a fair question, but Laverne hoped that even if Shirley had done something as impulsive as eloping with a near stranger, she'd still check in with her roommate after the fact. "Please, Squig."

"Why should I give up my day of rest to hang around your apartment?"

"Hi-ho, it's Rhonda."

"Rhonda!" Squiggy cried, as his whole body stiffened and pivoted towards the statuesque, buxom blonde in the kitchen doorway, like a five-foot erection.

Laverne did her best to hide her amusement at Squiggy and annoyance with Rhonda. "What do you want, Rhonda?"

"Rhonda has a million things to do today, so I wondered if you girls could answer my telephone and take messages."

Laverne now noticed the princess phone in her female neighbor's hand. She decided not to explain that Shirley wasn't home. "Edna expects us to help out at Cowboy Bill's this weekend, but Squiggy could take messages for you."

"I'm afraid Rhonda's cord isn't long enough to reach the boys' apartment."

"I'll listen for your ring here at the girls' place."

"Thanks, Squiggy." Rhonda set the phone on the kitchen table and then sashayed out, blowing Squiggy a kiss over her shoulder. "You're a doll!"

Laverne tried not to smirk as Squiggy mimed catching the kiss. "Thanks, Squig. I'll be back around 8. I'm gonna take a shower and change now."

It was a sign of the strength of Squiggy's infatuation for Rhonda Lee that he didn't make a leering comment or gesture at this. Instead, he murmured, "I'm gonna go tell Lenny I'll be over here."

He drifted out and Laverne went up the stairs. She tossed her panties in the laundry hamper and at last let herself wonder how Lenny got ahold of them. She highly doubted that he would want to do a one-man panty raid in the middle of a Hollywood party, or that she would calmly hand her underwear over to him.

She took some aspirin, which made her head less painful but not immediately less foggy. She stripped off her dress and thigh-high stockings and she was indeed panty-less. That probably ruled out the possibility that he had raided her underwear drawer while she was at work. No, he must have taken her underpants off her at the party, and likely with her full cooperation.

It wasn't until the warm water of the shower caressed her body that details came back to her. She had to switch to cold water by the end.


	3. The Same Old Song

Leonard Kosnowski looked in the mirror, shook his head, and turned away, not just because he couldn't get all the curls out of his hair. He couldn't get Laverne out of his head, like a broken record, especially after the party. He knew he should talk to her, but he was scared she'd reject him again. She might say that last night was a mistake, or worse, she might not even remember it.

When he went back to the living room, Squiggy was just returning from the girls' apartment.

"Hi, Squig."

"Hey, Len."

"Um, what did Laverne say when you returned the unmentionables?"

"She said thanks, so I said don't mention it."

"Oh." Lenny didn't know what he'd expected, but he supposed it was his own fault for not returning them himself, or at least not telling his best friend the truth.

"She wants you to do her a favor."

"Yeah?" Was that a hopeful sign? Not if the favor was for him to leave her alone.

"Yeah, you remember how I told you that Shirley eloped to Vegas with one of our hosts?"

"Yeah." It seemed so unlike sensible, cautious Shirley Feeney, but the party had made all of them act differently than their usual selves. It'd been less of a surprise when Laverne told him that she was eloping, and he'd managed to sidetrack that spontaneous plan.

"Well, Laberne wants to make sure she's OK but she, Laberne, has to work at the restaurant today. So she wants you to spend today over there, in case Shirley calls or comes home."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can do that." He had no other plans and maybe he could talk to Laverne at the end of the day when she came home, and he'd had time to think through what he had to say.

"Great. Can you take our phone over in case someone calls the agency?"

"Why can't you answer the phone?"

"Because I will be selling ice cream at the beach."

"Oh, OK. What time is Laverne coming home?"

"Around 8."

Lenny could've argued that Squiggy should be home long before then, but he preferred that he be the one to greet Laverne after her long workday. He wouldn't bring her a pipe and slippers, but maybe he could make some nice little gesture she'd appreciate.

"Let me just go put on a shirt," he said. He chose one of the Hawaiian prints that he wore occasionally in Milwaukee but which felt more appropriate to the relatively tropical climate of Burbank, California. He was already in jeans and socks. He wasn't sure if he needed shoes. Probably not, if he was just staying indoors. He did put on a ski hat to cover his half-curly hair.

He grabbed his guitar, so he could pass the time, since there wasn't much to watch on the girls' color TV on a Sunday besides religious programming and golf. Then he remembered that he'd promised to restring Laverne's guitar, so he got one of his extra strings. Squiggy handed him their telephone on their way out.

Lenny went across the hall to the girls' apartment as Squiggy went out to their truck. Lenny was trying to figure out how to knock with his hands full, since he also couldn't manage the doorknob, when Laverne opened the door.

He was almost as startled as she was, but in his case it was because he still wasn't used to seeing her in her Cowboy Bill's waitress uniform. She had her weekday job at Bardwell's Department Store, but she sometimes helped out at her father's restaurant, like in the old days. Her Pizza Bowl waitress uniform had been less flattering, while the blue denim cowgirl miniskirt showed off her gorgeous legs.

"I thought Squiggy was gonna house-sit. I mean apartment-sit."

"Oh. Do you want Squiggy to apartment-sit?"

"No, it's fine."

"Um, I've got your G-string." She blushed and he was sure she was thinking of her returned panties. "For your guitar."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. Um, I've gotta go catch a bus."

"See you tonight."

"Yeah, see ya." She brushed past him and ran outside.

That hadn't gone too well, but he knew they shouldn't go into the previous night when she had to focus on work. It'd be better to wait another eleven hours or so until they could talk.

He went in and set his phone near the doorway, then shut the door. He looked around and noticed Rhonda's phone on the kitchen table. Squiggy hadn't mentioned that, and Lenny felt a little manipulated, but one more bell to answer, one more egg to fry, didn't really matter.

He set down his guitar and got Laverne's. It was a gift from her father and stepmother, when the girls first moved out to California. She loved music and she liked making her own. She wasn't very good yet, although Sonny once said she was the most talented person in the room.

He didn't understand her relationship with Sonny. They got really serious, really fast the way Laverne did when she got serious about a guy she wasn't just interested in making out with. But now he was off doing stunts in Italy and she was dating other guys again and, yeah, almost eloping with one. He wondered what Sonny would think of the party, including what Laverne had done with Lenny.

He shook his head and restrung her guitar. Above all else, whatever they'd gone through over the years, she was his best girlfriend in the sense of a girl who was a friend. He could do little favors for her like this without it having to mean anything.

He did a few practice chords and her guitar sounded fine, but he went and got his own, since he was more used to that. Then he went and found a pen and notepad, to take down messages and to write lyrics on. He was just trying to decide whether he could rhyme "softly" and "loftily," when he heard Carmine's knock at the front door.

"Come in," he called and set down the notepad and the guitar.

Carmine entered and asked, "Where's Laverne?"

"She's waitressing at Cowboy Bill's this weekend."

"Oh." Carmine looked around at the phones, guitars, and notepad. "You look like you're a secretary for some crazy little record company."

"Yeah. Um, Carmine, can I talk to you?"

"Uh, I've got to go talk to Laverne. We're both worried about Shirley."

"Oh, right. You really care about her, don't you? I mean Shirley."

"Of course."

"Well, that's why I want to talk to you. You'd understand this in a way Squiggy wouldn't."

"Uh, OK." Carmine reluctantly sank into the chair closest to the front door.

"See, you had a life in Milwaukee you left behind when you came out here. A dance studio and everything."

"Well, yeah. But dancing has changed in the past few years. People weren't signing up for tap and all the 'old-fashioned' routines I grew up on."

"Still, you gave that up to be with Shirley."

Carmine sighed. "I love her. I missed her after she left, and even though we've never been exclusive, she's a big part of my life."

"Yeah, that's why I moved out to California."

"You're in love with Shirley?"

"No, no! I mean, I love her, but more like she's my big sister, even though she's shorter."

Carmine nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Um, why did you have Laverne's underpants?"

Lenny looked down at his hands. "Because I'm in love with her."

"I get that, too. Well, the love, not the underpants."

Lenny looked at Carmine again. "See, when we drove the girls out here in our truck, I figured we'd never see 'em again, unless we saved up for a visit. Then Squiggy suggested starting a talent agency, and it was an excuse to stay, so we signed a three-year lease on the apartment next door."

"Yeah, Shirley wrote to me about that part."

"We didn't have much of a life to give up. I mean, we liked being truck drivers, but I figured we could do that out here if the talent agency didn't work out. The main thing was, we'd still be around our friends, including you when you moved here. And even if nothing happened with me and Laverne, at least I'd still get to see her every day."

"Yeah. Len, what happened at the party?"

"What did Laverne tell you?"

"Not much, but I don't think she remembers much."

"Oh." He wasn't sure if that was a bad sign. Well, even if she didn't remember anything, he remembered enough that he needed to talk to someone about this, and he still felt like Carmine was the best listener for this confession.

"I wouldn't even know about the underpants if I hadn't been here when Squiggy returned them."

"Oh." That was more embarrassing than if Squiggy and Laverne had been alone, but perhaps it partly explained why Laverne had just said thanks. And maybe it would make the confession easier. "So the party. Me and Lenny went to scoop out talent for our agency. We didn't know the girls were invited by a couple of the hosts, and we was just grate-crashing. Squiggy suggested we dress as Simon and Garfunkel to blend in."

Carmine looked at Lenny's hat, so Lenny reluctantly took it off. To his credit, Carmine didn't laugh and just said, "Nice."

"It was curlier before," Lenny said defensively, putting the hat back on. "Anyway, me and Squiggy went in the jolly room to meet some girl named Mary Jane. We thought she was some starlet we could sign up. But it turned out to be a bathroom with no girl in it, and the guys just kept blowing smoke in our faces."

"Reefer gas."

"How did you know?"

"Squiggy said Shirley called him a reefer zombie."

"I don't remember that part but, yeah, it was kind of like that movie they made us watch in high school. Except me and Squiggy didn't smoke any funny cigarettes. We just got it second-handed. But it was strong enough that we got high. And Shirley was worried about Squiggy because he got kinda paranormal."

"He did?"

"Yeah, he thought everyone was out to get him."

"Oh. Is that why Shirley put his head on her bosom?"

"I guess, yeah. I wasn't paying much attention to them. I just wanted to touch Laverne."

"So the pot didn't make any difference with you."

"No, it did. I never wanted, I never wanted to touch a girl the way that I wanted to touch her."

"Uh, what way was that?"

"My senses were lightened, and when I stroked her hair and her face, my fingers felt all tingly. And she was so soft!"

"Well, she has stopped using hairspray."

"It's not just that. Her skin." He sighed wistfully at the memory.

"So she just stood there and let you paw her?"

"I wasn't pawing. I was caressing. And she was standing close to me and playing with my scarf and asking what it was like to be high. I couldn't tell her how much I liked touching her, so I talked about my pancreas."

"Of course." Carmine stood up. "Look, Lenny, I'm flattered that you confided in me, but my girlfriend has eloped with another man, and I don't think you need to feel bad about touching Laverne above the shoulders."

"Wait, I still haven't explained how I got her underwear."

"Oh, right." Carmine sank back down into the chair.

"The girls sent me and Squiggy outside for fresh air. Squiggy sat on the back porch, but he wanted to be left alone, so I went to look at the gabezo."

"Gazebo."

"OK. Anyway, I went in and sat there, thinking about life, the universe, and everything. And I decided that if me and Laverne were meant to be together, I'd get some sort of sign. Then Laverne showed up and said she was getting married!"

For the first time in this conversation, Carmine looked surprised. "She was?"

"Yeah, with Derek DeWoods, one of our hosts "

"OK. So how did she end up, end up back home this morning?"

"I guess she took a taxi."

"No, I mean, never mind. So did she come to say goodbye or what?"

"That's what she said. And I thought it was crazy, but I was high, so I didn't feel like I could make a good argument against it. So I gave her a hug of congratulations, and then I started caressing her shoulders. See, she was wearing this dress with thin straps."

"Yeah, she was still wearing it when I came over this morning."

Squiggy hadn't mentioned that, but by now Lenny had the feeling his roommate had left out a lot about his visit to the girls' apartment earlier that morning. Well, it wasn't like Lenny had told Squiggy everything either. "Laverne didn't mind me touching her almost bare skin. Even though she was engaged now. In fact, she seemed to really like it, so I kept going."

"All the way?"

"Not exactly. I touched her over her clothes, and then up her thigh-high stockings, until she took off her panties and said, 'I want you to really touch me, Len.' I mentioned her engagement, but she said she was rethinking that."

"I'll bet."

Lenny cleared his throat. "By this point, I was starting to wonder if she was high, because normally Laverne wouldn't let me touch her like this."

"Or decide to elope with some guy she just met."

Lenny didn't know the word empathy, but he knew Carmine was really thinking about Shirley. "Right. But she wanted me to touch her in her most secret spot and I did and, um, it made her really, really happy."

"I'll bet," Carmine whispered this time.

"Then she asked if there was anything she could do for me. And, well, did Shirley ever tell you about the time she touched my pleasure center?"

Carmine got to his feet again, this time in anger. "What did you do to Shirley?"

"Nothing. Please sit down."

Carmine reluctantly sat back down, but he still looked menacing. "What did you make her do to you?"

"Well, do you remember the time Squiggy pushed me out the window?"

"Uh, yeah." Now Carmine looked baffled.

"Well, I had a broken leg so Shirley took care of me in my time of infirmary. She fed me and she gave my foot a sponge bath."

"What about your 'pleasure center'?"

"Well, uh, I happen to have erroneous zones located on the soles of my feet."

Now Carmine looked both disgusted and relieved. "So she gave you a foot massage?"

"Basically, yeah, although she didn't like it. But I thought maybe Laverne would, or at least she wouldn't mind, so I asked her. And she took off one of my shoes and socks and she rubbed me until I, well."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Then I guess I passed out. Because when I woke up, Laverne was gone and I was lying under the bench in the gabezo." He didn't mention that he'd woken up with Squiggy in his arms, because it wasn't germanic to the subject.

"Gazebo."

"Right."

"Listen, Lenny, I've got to tell you something about Laverne."

"You're in love with her?" Lenny had wondered sometimes, because he didn't really understand Laverne's relationship with Carmine either.

"No, no! I mean, I love her, but not like that. No, see, I happen to know that Laverne was stoned last night."

"Did she tell you?"

"I don't think she knows. I think she thinks she's hungover."

"Then how do you know? You weren't even at the party."

"No, but I talked to one of the hosts. You know Malcolm Bridges?"

"Sure, the bassist."

"Yeah, well, do you remember a plate of brownies at the party?"

"Yeah, I had some. They were kinda dry."

"That's because they had marijuana in them."

"Oh!" That made sense. Then Lenny said, "Oh," because he realized that Laverne had only fooled around with him because she was high, too.

Carmine shook his head. "I don't know a lot about drugs, but I've heard they can bring out a side of you that you're usually afraid to show. So Squiggy, who usually acts full of confidence, got paranoid. You got very affectionate and Laverne got very, um, frisky."

"And Shirley got married to a stranger."

"Yeah." Carmine got to his feet again, but this time he headed towards the front door, then he turned to face Lenny again. "Look, Lenny, you need to talk to Laverne when she gets home tonight."

"Yeah, I know."

"But it's a lot more urgent that I talk to Laverne, because Shirley's whole future depends on it."

Lenny nodded. "Maybe she didn't really go through with it, even if she went to Vegas."

"I hope so. But I need to let Laverne know what happened."

"You won't tell her what I told you, will you?"

"No, that's for you to tell her, and anyway it has nothing to do with Shirley."

"Right. Good luck."

"You, too, Lenny."

After Carmine left, Lenny got his guitar again, but instead of composing, he played an old song, one he sang a capella to Squiggy last night when his best friend thrashed in his arms and said everyone was out to get him and Lenny had to protect him:

"Hush-a-bye and drift away  
Shut the door on one more day  
Dreams of glory, dreams of joy  
Mrs. Squiggman's baby boy."  



	4. Breaking a Few Eggs

Edna DeFazio looked away from the clock on the kitchen wall, shook her head, and sighed.

"I'm sure Laverne and Shirley will be here," said the only waitress in the building. "They're probably just running late, and they'd call if they weren't coming in at all."

Edna could've pointed out that the girls might not even be awake yet, but instead she said, "You're probably right, Rosita. And thank you for coming in today."

"Hey, no problem, Mrs. DeFazio. I can use the extra money. And Shirley and Laverne will probably be a little sleepy after their late-night party."

Edna thought there was a good chance that Laverne at least would show up hungover, but she couldn't say that either. So she nodded and went back to cooking a Western omelet for their sole customer.

She was putting the omelet on a plate when she heard Rosita say, "Hey, Laverne, how was your first Hollywood party?"

"It was nice."

After seven years, Edna knew that tone, the way Laverne could make "nice" sound like its opposite. So before Rosita could ask too many unintentionally uncomfortable questions, beyond a "Where's Shirley?", which Laverne answered with, "She's got the sniffles," Edna emerged from the kitchen and said, "Laverne, can you come with me and restock the paper towels in the restroom?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Laverne followed her to the supply closet, where Edna grabbed a box of paper towels and handed them to her. Then Edna led her stepdaughter into the ladies' and at last spoke again. "Where's Shirley?" she asked, since that seemed to be the most important question.

"Um, I'm not sure. Maybe Vegas?"

"Maybe Vegas?! What happened at the party?"

Laverne burst into tears.

"Oh, Honey!" She never used that endearment for any of the five children that came out of her body, even Amy, the baby. But it seemed to fit the tough but vulnerable girl who had lived motherless for fifteen years, until she gave her blessing to Edna's sixth marriage.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the word made Laverne cry harder. Edna went and got her toilet paper from a stall.

"Thanks," Laverne sniffed as she took it.

"You can talk to me, Hon— Laverne."

"I really want to, Edna, but my pop can't know. At least not yet, and never all of it."

"You know I respect you girls' privacy, but if Shirley's in some kind of trouble—"

"I'm not sure what's going on with Shirley. I'm still figuring out what happened to me. But I'll tell you what I can and I'll try to make it quick."

"Take your time, Sweetie. Rosita's got it covered."

"I know, but it's easier if I don't go into detail." Laverne wiped her face with the toilet paper, threw it away, coughed, and began. "We went to the party last night, and even though I don't remember drinking anything, I must've because I woke up with a weird hangover."

Edna nodded. The red eyes and nose might've just been from crying, but in any case Laverne didn't exactly look fresh as a daisy.

"It took awhile for me to get my memory back this morning, and there are still gaps. But I definitely remember London and Derek proposing to us."

"The two rock & roll stars that invited you to the party?"

"Yeah, they said they loved us. And I knew things were moving really fast, but my brain was muddled. And when Shirley said OK, well, I thought it must be all right, because usually she's the voice of reason on going too fast with guys."

"Do you think she was drinking, too?"  


"She must've been. The guys ordered a taxi to take the four of us to the airport, for Vegas I guess, because that's what Squiggy said."

"Squiggy? How does he know?"

"He and Lenny were at the party. And I guess he overheard stuff when he was outside, getting fresh air, because the boys got reefer gas blown in their faces in the jolly room."

"Jolly as in Christmas or as in pirates?"

"No, jolly as in fun." Laverne blushed a little, although Edna did not yet know why. "I wanted to say goodbye to Lenny, because marriage is a big step and I don't know, I guess I wanted him to know."

Edna was never sure of the degree of Laverne's willful blindness to Lenny's never-ending infatuation on her. Edna had heard the story indirectly from Shirley, but about four years ago Lenny's long-time crush on Laverne had bubbled over and, even though he had agreed with Laverne to just be friends, Edna was observant enough, and as landlady present enough, to see that Lenny just tried to keep quiet about his continuing feelings. Laverne's own feelings were less clear. She certainly loved Lenny as a friend, but since the move to California, especially lately, Edna had noticed moments of affection and flirtation between the two L-kids, on both sides.

"Do you remember when I almost married the Fonz?"

"Of course. And Shirley almost married Richie Cunningham."

"Well, I was crazy about Fonzie, and Shirley liked Richie, but no one wants to be married at gunpoint. So it was a relief that Lenny overheard Richie telling us about the fix he and Fonzie were in and Lenny told all of you and you showed up and stopped the wedding."

"Honey," Edna risked saying, "do you think you wanted Lenny to stop another double wedding for you girls?"

"Yeah, maybe on some level I did. But he congratulated me and gave me a big hug. Then he didn't let go and he started rubbing my shoulders."

"He gave you a massage?"

"Not exactly. His touch was really light. He stroked my face and hair in the living room earlier, but I just figured it was because he was high and he's always liked me. It felt nice and I didn't mind. This was different now, because we were alone, although it wasn't that private because it was a gazebo."

"And then what happened?" Edna asked, concerned for her stepdaughter but feeling like a voyeur peering into a building with no walls.

Laverne turned away and started filling the paper towel dispenser, but Edna could see part of Laverne's reflection in the mirror. "I felt all tingly this time, whether he touched my skin or caressed my dress. I didn't want him to stop, even when he went up my thigh-high stockings."

"What about Sonny?"

Laverne turned to face her again. "We have an understanding while he's away, but I didn't even think of him last night. And it wasn't until I, um, took off my underpants and asked Lenny to touch me down there, that he said, "Aren't you supposed to be getting married tonight?"

"And what did you say?"

"Um, I said, 'Not necessarily.' "

Edna wanted to laugh, but she was too concerned. "Were you hoping for a last fling, or were you thinking Lenny might change your mind about the elopement?"

"I wasn't really thinking, just feeling, and Lenny made me feel good." Laverne blushed.

"Did you...?" Edna wasn't sure how to ask this, although she knew she needed to.

Instead of directly answering the unfinished question, Laverne said, "Afterwards, I asked if I could do anything for him, and he asked for a foot massage."

"A foot massage?"

"Yeah, it turns out he's got really sensitive feet. Really sensitive!" Laverne's blush deepened.

"You mean he...?" Edna had been with a dozen men, not counting her half dozen husbands, and she'd never run into one who could reach climax with touch so far from his crotch.

"Well, he was stoned. And I guess it was too much for him, because after, you know, he fell off the bench we were sitting on, rolled under it, and passed out."

Edna again had to resist the urge to laugh. "What did you do then?"

"I got up and tried to wake him up. Then Squiggy came in and said, 'Ain't you supposed to be gettin' married?' "

Now Edna laughed and Laverne smiled a little. "Did he do his 'hello' thing?"

"No, but he did this morning, when Lenny, um, had him return my underwear."

"So have you and Lenny even talked since last night?"

"A little this bit this morning when I was rushing off to work. I'm sorry I'm late by the way."

"You have a good excuse."

Laverne looked down. "There's more."

"More? Oh, Honey, you didn't get married, did you?"

"No, but I planned to. So I left Squiggy to look after Lenny and went back to the house. I found Malcolm Bridges, the bass player, and I asked him where Derek was. He said Derek eloped with Shirley."

"Wait, I thought Lyndon was the one Shirley likes."

"London and yeah. And I like Derek. But when they proposed to us, Derek called me Shirley, even though a minute later he claimed to love me. So I dunno, maybe they weren't that sober either. Anyway, I asked Malcolm where London was, and he said, 'Oh, about fifty miles northwest of Lamberhurst.' " Laverne chuckled.

"I don't get it."

"The band is known as the Lads from Lamberhurst. Anyway, he said London was in the jolly room, so I went in there."

"What about the reefer gas?"

"I didn't think about it, but it wasn't too smoky when I went in. London was by himself and he remembered my name. He said, 'Laverne, where did you disappear to?' "

"I told him I was saying goodbye to a friend and then he said, 'So do you want to marry me?' "

"Talk about fickle!"

"Well, I couldn't judge him, especially not when I jumped him."

"Laverne!" Somehow this was more shocking than her and Lenny getting handsy with each other, maybe because London was a stranger and Lenny was Laverne's old friend from high school.

"I know, I know, but please don't tell my pop."

"I won't, but I am worried about you. I mean, remember the time you passed out in a vat and thought you might be in trouble?"

"Of course, but I remember more about last night than I did then, although I didn't at first. And these days, well, I'm on the Pill."

"You are?"

"I know, I'm a bad Catholic."

"Well, I won't tell your priest, or your father."

"Thank you."

"Did you remember to take it yesterday?"

"Yeah, before I left for the party."

"Good. So, you, well, got your jollies in the jolly room?"

"Sort of. I think I had more fun making out with Lenny, but he got me so worked up and frustrated that I threw myself at London and decided not to wait for the honeymoon. After London was done, he said, 'Wow, Laverne, you're going to be quite a wife.' "

Edna snorted. "Sorry."

Laverne smiled a little again. "It's OK. The thing is, I realized this was all happening really fast and I didn't know if I wanted to marry this guy, so I said, 'I don't want a husband who fools around with strange girls at parties.' Then I left the room while he was still pulling up and refastening his trousers. I saw Malcolm and had him order me a taxi and then I went to wait for it out front."

"What did London do?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since. But Malcolm came outside to talk to me about my guitar-playing, because earlier Shirley and I jammed a little on 'I Can't Get No Satisfaction,' you know the Rolling Stones song?"

"No, but it sounds ungrammatical."

"It's a really good song, and I can do the chorus on guitar, and Shirley was really good on drums, or at least I thought she was at the time. Anyway, I invited Malcolm back to my place to see my guitar, as long as he didn't want to marry me."

Edna shook her head. "Laverne."

"I know, I know. But all I remember doing is kissing, although this morning he says we 'snogged.' "

"What's that?"

"I have no idea. But this morning I woke up on my couch with just my shoes and panties off, and he was upstairs in Shirley's bed."

"Why Shirley's bed?"

"Well, I sort of remember telling him to go up to the bedroom but I didn't say which bed. And I was going to bring up the bubbly."

"You had champagne?"

"No, milk & Pepsi. He'd never tried it before and was curious."

"Well, I guess it was a night to experiment," Edna couldn't help saying, although she felt bad when Laverne winced.

Then Rosita knocked and said, "Laverne, the Big Ragoo is here and wants to talk to you."

Edna looked at Laverne, who nodded. So Edna opened the door and said, "Send him in please."

"Into the ladies' room?"

"Yes, and can you put the 'out of order' sign on the door?"

Rosita looked confused but said, "OK, Mrs. DeFazio."

"Thank you, Rosita. We'll come out as soon as we can."

"Take your time, Mrs. DeFazio. We don't have any customers right now."

That was some relief, although Edna obviously had other things on her mind besides the restaurant that morning. She was worried about Shirley as well as Laverne, although she knew less about what had happened to the more naive and innocent girl. And now Carmine was here, and Edna had no idea what Shirley's boyfriend knew about any of this, other than that Edna herself had mentioned to him yesterday evening that the girls had left work a little early to prepare for a big Hollywood party. Still, Laverne didn't seem surprised or worried about the arrival of Carmine, so Laverne must've confided at least some of this to him already.

Rosita left and Edna shut the door. She whispered, "How much does Carmine know?"

"Well, he knows Shirley eloped but I think he thinks it was with London, because that's what I thought before I remembered more. And he knows about me 'snogging' with Malcolm, because he's the one who found him in Shirley's bed and he gave Malcolm a ride to the airport before I left for work."

That raised a whole other set of questions, but Carmine entered the restroom before Edna could ask anything else. He said, "Hi, Edna. Uh, did Laverne fill you in on the party?"

Edna nodded, and Laverne said, "I remember a lot more than I did when I first woke up."

"Anything else about Shirley?"

"Just that she left the party to get married to Derek DeWoods instead of London."

Carmine nodded. "That's what Malcolm said, and yes, they were heading to Vegas, like Squiggy said."

Laverne asked, "Do you think she went through with it?"

"I don't know, but I've decided to go to Vegas and see what I can find out. It's a four-hour drive and I can make it there by early afternoon."

"Thanks, Carmine, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

"Laverne," Edna offered, "if you want to take today off and go with him, I completely understand."

"Thank you, Edna, but I promised to help you out. Besides, it'll be easier for Lenny to reach me if Shirley calls home."

"Lenny?"

"He's apartment-sitting today," Carmine answered Edna before Laverne could, then he looked at Laverne and added, "That's how I knew you were here."

Laverne blushed and nodded, making Edna wonder about that, but she asked, "Did this Malcolm Bridges tell you anything else, Carmine?"

"Yeah, two things. One is he told me what 'snogging' is."

"What is it?" Edna and Laverne both asked.

"Intense kissing, with sometimes cuddling thrown in."

"Oh." Laverne looked relieved although still embarrassed.

"What was the other thing?" Edna asked.

"Well, there were some chocolate brownies at the party."

"Yeah, me and Shirley ate some."

"Laverne, those were pot brownies."

Laverne gasped but Edna was puzzled. "They were baked in a pot instead of a pan?" Both young people looked at her and then Edna, who was pretty hip for her generation, got it. "Oh, that kind of pot!"

"Malcolm said he thought the girls knew, because he offered them a joint, you know, a...."

"A funny cigarette," Edna said.

Laverne shook her head. "He knew I was stoned when we made out, and he thought I knew."

"And he thinks Shirley knew she was stoned when she agreed to elope with Derek," Carmine said grimly.

Laverne gave him a quick hug. "Thank you so much for going to Vegas, Carmine."

"Of course."

"Carmine, do you need any money for your trip? Like if you have to stay overnight?"

"Thanks, Edna, it'd be great if you could loan me $20."

"Of course. I'll get it from the till. Laverne, take your time freshening up."

"Thanks, Mom."

Now Edna felt like crying, but she led Carmine back to the dining area and got a twenty out of the cash register. She wanted to ask Carmine if he and Lenny had talked, but there was a couple at one of the tables now. True, they looked like they had gotten out of bed and quickly dressed to get some fast food and replenish their energy before heading back to bed, the way they held hands and nuzzled noses, but Edna didn't want them to overhear a very private conversation. As it was, she very quietly whispered the question, "What are you going to do if Shirley did go through with the wedding?"

"Try to talk her into getting a divorce," Carmine whispered back.

Edna nodded, slipped him the twenty, and said, "Good luck."

He gave her a quick hug and said, "Thanks, Mrs. Babish."

She didn't bother to correct him.


	5. First Time on the Skins

When Shirley's memory of her wedding night came back, it was an almost seamless whole, with two important exceptions. She still couldn't recall drinking any alcohol, although she remained convinced she had, because of that very memory loss. When she wrote of the night in her journal later, across several entries, she'd add in her more recent thoughts and feelings. On the train, it played out like a movie, even as she watched the stunning and varied California scenery unfold from her window seat.

She and Laverne took a cab to a house in Hollywood, following the directions London and Derek had given them. The party was in full swing when they arrived. The band was playing their number one hit and the girls weren't the only ones who danced to it.

They got a chance to talk to London and Derek again, but Laverne embarrassed Shirley by asking Derek if his teeth were capped.

They didn't see any other celebrities, although Dylan was supposed to be there. Laverne thought she spotted Simon and Garfunkel, but it turned out to be Squiggy and Lenny. The boys went into "the jolly room," to meet a girl named Mary Jane. The room seemed very smoky, which Shirley assumed was because British men love pipes, like Sherlock Holmes.

Then Malcolm Bridges, the Friendly One, offered them a smoke of something that was not tobacco. Laverne was tempted by the marijuana cigarette, but Shirley convinced her to try the chocolate brownies instead. The treat was dry but they got used to the funny taste, probably a British recipe.

The boys came out of the jolly room dopier than usual. In fact, they'd had dope smoke blown in their faces. Shirley was more worried about Squiggy than Lenny, who seemed to be savoring everything, from Laverne's hair to the state-of-the-art stereo system. Squiggy in contrast was paranoid, thinking everyone was watching him and talking about him, which they were because he loudly voiced his suspicions. Shirley felt protective of him and tried to hold him and talk sense to him, but he wasn't having any of that. So she sent both boys outside for fresh air.

She and Laverne had a couple more brownies and then Laverne suggested they try out the band's equipment while the lads were still on their break. Laverne had a guitar of her own, acoustic, and she was mostly self-taught. Frankly, she wasn't very good, but Sonny encouraged her.

(Laverne had fallen for their tall, handsome, muscular, and kind apartment manager right away, and he was drawn to her unique beauty and easy wit. They were pretty serious but more at a going-steady level than engagement. Shirley had convinced them that during the couple months Sonny would be working as a stuntman in Italy they should have an understanding like she'd had with Carmine for many years. They'd be together when he returned, but for now they were free to see other people.)

Shirley had always wanted to play the drums, but they were so unladylike, and how could Shirley perform in front of strangers, at a Hollywood party no less? But Laverne was good at making her do crazy things, and Shirley felt less self-conscious than usual that night.

"We'll do 'Satisfaction.' It's got a nice steady beat for you, and I know the chorus."

So a minute later she was playing the skins as Laverne rocked out on lead guitar, sounding better than she ever had before, but in a rough, sort of garage band way.

London and Derek were so impressed that they came over. And then they proposed! First Derek asked Laverne, but he called her Shirley. Then London proposed to Shirley and called her by her right name. The lads claimed to love them. Shirley pointed out that they hadn't even held hands. So Derek took Laverne's hand and London took Shirley's.

Shirley felt like it was all happening too fast, although she was flattered of course. She asked for more time to think it over and Derek said they had a minute. Laverne was of course more eager, but then Laverne had been more ready for the shotgun wedding, and not just because she wanted a wedding night with the Fonz.

Malcolm offered them more brownies, and the sugar naturally made her happier. Maybe it wasn't crazy to marry a man she just met. After all, she knew a lot about him from publicity releases, interviews, and fan magazines.

When London and Derek returned, she and Laverne accepted. She was glad it would be a double wedding, since she and Laverne had gone through so much, since Brownies, the non-edible kind.

Then the rock stars said they wanted to get married that night, before they went on tour. Shirley half expected a minister to pop out of the kitchen, but the lads wanted to have a quickie wedding in Vegas. She was sure there were arguments against that, but she couldn't come up with them just then.

Then, after Derek went to call a cab, Laverne suddenly said, "I forgot to say goodbye to Lenny and Squiggy!"

Shirley didn't see the urgency, although she supposed it might be awhile until they saw their friends again.

Laverne went out the back door and saw "Paul Simon" sitting in a lawn chair. "Goodbye, Squiggy!" she cried dramatically.

"Hello," he said calmly. His paranoia seemed to have died down.

"Where's Lenny?"

Squiggy wordlessly pointed across the lawn, towards a white-and-blue gazebo.

"Shirl, I'll be right back."

Shirley felt like she should say there wasn't time, but time didn't feel like it usually did. So from the doorway, she watched Laverne run across the lawn, towards the gazebo. Then Shirley went back inside, without saying anything.

London found her and took her arm, saying, "We should wait out front."

She let him lead her to the front of the pseudo-Tudor cottage. Derek was standing there, looking at his watch, as if time weren't an illusion. He looked at her and asked, "Where's Laverne?"

"Saying goodbye to a friend."

Derek looked puzzled, probably at Laverne knowing someone else at the party. But before he could say anything else, the cab pulled up. London chivalrously opened the door for her, but before he could get in next to her, Derek pulled him aside.

The two men talked in whispers, and then Derek got in, shutting the door behind him. He told the cabbie to head to the airport, and the driver nodded and drove off, without London and without Laverne.

Shirley wasn't as upset and worried as she normally would've been in such an abnormal situation, but she did ask, "What's going on?"

"London and Laverne will catch up with us later."

It felt strange, but she didn't object. Instead, she watched the different neighborhoods of Los Angeles zip by her window and made conversation with Derek, mostly about music.

They got to the airport and he paid for their tickets. They didn't have any luggage and she of course kept her little white purse with her. Boarding was easy a half hour later, and they were flying first class.

London and Laverne still hadn't shown up. After they buckled in, Derek said, "They can catch a later flight."

Shirley shook her head and said, "Laverne will be scared to fly without me. Although she did once land a plane."

Derek was understandably curious about that, so she told him the story as this plane taxied down the runway and then rose into the air. She even mentioned kissing Laverne on the lips. Derek was a good listener and there weren't any other first-class passengers on the flight, although the way Shirley was feeling, she probably still would've babbled.

Derek encouraged her to talk about her life so she did, for the next hour or so. Her intense mother and distant father. Her four big brothers, especially Bobby, who was her favorite. Mikey and Mickey and all her other cousins. Her longing for a sister, until she met Laverne, who was even better. Their rivalry and jealousy and fights, their loyalty and support and love. Their laughter and (some) of their misadventures.

"A double wedding makes sense for us," she said, looking down at the sparkling lights of Las Vegas, feeling like the angel on the top of a Christmas tree. "But I guess if they don't catch the next flight, neither of us is getting married tonight."

For the second time that night, Derek DeWoods said, "Hey, Shirley, why don't we get married?"

She turned her muddled head away from the window. "No, you love Laverne."

"Not the way I love you."

"But London loves me."

"We both do. But we talked it over before I got in the taxi, and he accepted that my love is stronger."

"Poor London," she murmured.

Derek shrugged. "At least he'll get a song out of it."

"You want to marry me in Vegas?"

"Well, as long as we're in the neighborhood."

She giggled and she kept giggling on and off, even during the wedding ceremony. Everything struck her as funny, particularly in the little chapel on the Strip. The little old couple with the matching names. The wedding gown that was almost like a surgical gown, which Ernestine had to fasten in the back, since the front was just for show. The way Ernie hurried through the ceremony so he could start the bingo game in the next room. And the most ridiculous thing was Shirley Wilhelmina Feeney was marrying a man who'd only found out her middle name at the ceremony. She was marrying a rock & roll star, and it wasn't even the one she'd agreed to marry a couple hours earlier.

She got married under her spiritual name, Star Monkey, which she realized only in the moment of exchanging vows, although she still had to sign her legal name on the document. She was now officially Mrs. Derek DeWoods!

When they left Ernie's Discount Wedding Chapel and Bingo Parlor, Shirley blushed as she asked, "Should we see if we can get a honeymoon suite this late?"

"Actually, Shirley, we need to spend the rest of our wedding night in San Francisco, because the tour starts tomorrow."

"Oh, right, the tour."

"I'll make sure you get back to Los Angeles and then we can be together when the tour ends in a couple months."

"Thank you." This wasn't at all how she pictured her honeymoon, but at least she'd have time to adjust to married life before living with her new husband.

He hailed a taxi and they went back to the Las Vegas airport. (McCarran was still just a "field" and wouldn't become an "international airport" for another three years.) Along the way, he told her about the tour, but she couldn't remember all the details later. She just remembered him joking that the band was going to play "Che Stadium," named after "the former Cuban guerrilla leader Che Stadium." He had a quirky sense of humour that would take some getting used to.

On the flight to Frisco, which was about half an hour longer than the flight from LA, he encouraged her to tell him more stories about her life. This time, she mentioned Lenny and Squiggy, trying to explain their weird neighbors, who Derek had thought were the real Simon & Garfunkel at the party, although he hadn't actually talked to them. She had never really thought about it before, but a lot of the crazy misadventures she and Laverne had involved the boys in some way, like the time Squiggy got them dresses so they could go to a party with the Shotzes.

She didn't say a word about Carmine, and not just because he was a less wacky neighbor. She didn't want to explain her long-term boyfriend to her husband, or even think about him much that night. But she knew she would need to talk to Carmine when she got home.

They got to San Francisco and caught another cab, this time for a hotel, the Ritz-Carlton. Normally, she would've felt guilty about a date spending so much money on her, and would've wondered if he'd expect her to "repay" him, but this was a marriage, not a date.

She hadn't yet let her mind dwell on the part of the wedding night that would've been Laverne's first thought. She did hope that Derek would be as patient with her in bed as he was with her stories.

They checked into the hotel, and it seemed so strange to register as a married couple. The only other times she had, it was definitely not to fool around. She won a stay at the Pfister Hotel back in Milwaukee, but she shared the room, and the musical bed, with Laverne. She'd also shared a bed with Laverne the night she very reluctantly passed herself off as Mrs. Andrew Squigman, and that was just to save money on the journey west.

She and Derek didn't need a bellhop to show them to their room, especially since they had no luggage. They took the elevator up and easily found number 1401.

He carried her over the threshold, remarking, "You're a nice little handful."

"Thank you," she murmured, thinking of how he was six feet tall and weighed ten stones.

He set her down on the bed but said, "Excuse me, I've got to use the loo." She assumed he meant the bathroom, since he opened the door off to the side and then she heard running water before he closed the door.

She hesitated a moment and then quickly stripped off her clothes, tucking them into the top drawer of the night stand, although her shoes went under the bed. Maybe she was supposed to have her groom undress her, but it wasn't like she had been able to bring a trousseau. She did get under the covers though, not yet ready to be exposed.

He was naked when he returned, holding his black-and-white outfit in his arms. "I hope you don't mind that I sleep in the raw," he said, as he put his clothes, including shoes, in the dresser.

She tried not to look at his bottom as she answered, "No, I remember the liner notes on your album."

He turned and chuckled. "Ah, yes, all you'd ever need to know about us."

She made more of an effort to look at him above the waist. Still, she was very aware of his body as he came to bed.

Then he pulled back the covers and smiled down at her body. "Well, well, it looks like we have something in common."

She blushed as she said, "I don't have a nightie with me."

"Oh, I'm not complaining, Love." He leaned in and gave her a teasing kiss, his lips dancing lightly on hers, his tongue darting out and then back into his own mouth.

She kissed back but afterwards said, "I should tell you right now I'm, well, I'm a virgin."

His brown eyes widened in surprise. "At your age?"

"I was saving myself for my husband," she said defensively.

"Ooo, and I'm the lucky bloke!"

Despite years of conversation with Laverne, she couldn't gauge the degree of his sarcasm. And the other gap in her memory unfortunately came here, a very big gap that covered everything until she woke in that same bed, still naked but alone.

On the train, she remembered Big Rosie luridly telling the Angora Debs about how Ogden Greenbaum took her virginity, emphasizing the blood and the soreness. Laverne hung on every word, but years later she remarked out of nowhere, "Maybe Ogden was just bad at it. If the guy eases you into it and relaxes you...."

Shirley was lying in bed, half asleep. It took her a minute to even understand what Laverne was talking about, and then she gasped, "Vernie, did you and Randy...?"

"It's late, Shirl," Laverne said and then pretended to snore.

Shirley didn't know if Laverne had lost her virginity to Randy Carpenter or was only thinking about it. Less than twenty-four hours later, Laverne's kind, muscular, handsome, and tall fireman boyfriend was dead, and Laverne to this day was uncomfortable talking about him.

The odd thing was, Shirley thought she remembered her groom calling himself Randy, which was an odd nickname for "Derek." Maybe it was his spiritual name. She also remembered them touching each other's bare skin as they cuddled. He wasn't a giant but he was taller than she was used to, and she had to adjust to someone thinner and less muscular than Carmine.

Watching the sapphire Pacific come into view as they approached Santa Barbara, she thought of how different it would be to cuddle with Boo Boo Kitty that night, now that she'd lost her innocence. What she most wanted though was to cuddle and whisper with Laverne, like when they were little girls at sleepovers, trying to solve great mysteries like where babies come from.


	6. Animals and Petting

As Laverne caught the bus home, she yawned and wished she could go straight to bed. She knew she wouldn't get much sleep, despite her exhaustion from being on her feet all day, and the craziness of the night before. She would be too aware of Shirley's empty bed.

She hadn't heard anything while she was at the restaurant, not from Carmine, Lenny, or Shirley herself. She tried to tell herself that no news was good news, but Shirley was the optimist, not her. The best that Laverne could hope for was that Derek had whisked Shirley away on the tour, unwilling to be separated from his bride. The worst, well, it was a stoned Shirley giving up her precious virginity on a promise of marriage, only for Derek to abandon her in Vegas, or wherever he lured her to. No, the worst would be all that, plus Shirley getting pregnant.

She hoped Shirley had a good excuse for not calling. Maybe she didn't want to call long distance, although she should know she could reverse the charges in a case like this. It was so unlike Shirley to not call, even if she was going to be just an hour late, and now it'd been most of a day.

Laverne tried to calm herself by picturing Shirley tucked safely in bed, snuggled up with Boo Boo Kitty, like the innocent little girl who first invited Laverne over for a sleepover twenty years ago. Instead the image that floated into her mind was from the night before, something she hadn't shared with Edna, because it had nothing to do with Shirley, or directly with Laverne herself.

"Ain't you supposed to be gettin' married?"

Laverne got to her feet, hoping Squiggy couldn't tell that she wasn't wearing her panties. Lenny had tucked them into his back pocket before he touched her between the legs, and now he was passed out under the bench.

She wasn't sure how to answer Squiggy. When she entered the gazebo, she had every intention of marrying Derek DeWoods. Then Lenny distracted her. And she let him.

Squiggy didn't wait for an answer but instead knelt where she'd been kneeling. He whispered, "Lenny, it's so dark out and there are no walls." He no longer sounded like a ranting old man. He sounded like a scared little boy.

Lenny didn't respond, but when Squiggy crawled under the bench, the bigger man reached out for the smaller man, like a child reaching for a teddy bear. So the last thing Laverne saw before she left the gazebo to find her fiancé was her two neighbors cuddling on the floor.

When the image popped into her head on the bus, it was sad and comical, sweet and disturbing, innocent and perverted. She shook her head to clear it. The brownie hangover was gone, thanks to aspirin from Edna and three solid if greasy meals. There would be more lingering effects of the marijuana, not just for her, but her mind still couldn't take them all in.

She figured she'd never see London's Bridges again, except for on _The Ed Sullivan Show,_ or maybe their upcoming movie that Malcolm had told her about, _Falling Down._ She was still a fan of their music, and she had spent part of this very long day with the flip side of their number one single stuck in her unmuddling head. ("Shock, shock, shock, it fits me like a sock, sock, sock."). But she had the feeling that Malcolm would forget her by the time he came back to LA, and she wasn't sure she wanted to go out with him again, because of the brownies and because he'd never really been one of her crushes.

As for London, Shirley was right, he really was cute, in a more conventional way than Derek. It'd made sense to pair up the way Laverne thought they were going to pair up, London's red shirt matching Shirley's dress a good omen. (Even if it did make Laverne think of her favorite new show, _Star Trek.)_ It threw Laverne off when the pairs changed, but her pot-and-sugar-rushed mind went with it, at least at first. And her skin was still tingly and hungry from Lenny's touches, and London was right there, even willing to marry her.

She lifted the white ruffled hem of her black minidress and said, "I see London, I see France, but you can't see my underpants."

London's eyes widened and he asked, "Where are your knickers, Love?"

At first she thought of knee pants, but she was able to guess at his meaning. "In the gazebo."

"Where you were saying goodbye to a friend?"

"Well, I wanted to give him something to remember me by."

Before her new fiancé could ask her any more questions, she kissed him, a passionate, hungry kiss that he returned after he got over the surprise. She guided his hand under her skirt and started to undo his trousers.

"Don't you want to wait for the honeymoon?" he gasped.

"You have to audition first," she said.

Time had slowed down with Lenny, every moment feeling like an hour, but in a good way. Everything felt rushed and frantic with London, although Laverne saw now that that came from her, not him, and that he just got swept up in her frenzy. London came in her quickly, as startled as when she grabbed him.

"Wow, Laverne, you're going to be quite a wife!"

"I don't want a husband who fools around with strange girls at parties," she said, starting to wonder if this had all been a mistake. As she left the jolly room, the lyrics going through her head were "I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction, 'cause I try and I try and I try and I try, I can't get no, I can't get no...." And there was Malcolm Bridges, so friendly and helpful.

Rock & roll stars were probably used to girls throwing themselves at them. Heck, she and Shirley had been innocent groupies with Fabian once, although it hadn't gone further than hugging and kissing. No doubt, Malcolm and even London would just shrug their shoulders at the memory of the daft American bird who had snogged and boffed them respectively on the eve of their first American tour. Lenny was not going to forget her as easily.

She had considered the possibility that Lenny wouldn't remember anything, or maybe just their relatively harmless touching in the living room. She couldn't tell from their brief interaction in the hallway that morning how much he then remembered, but he'd had all day in her apartment to sit there and recall what he could of the party. If he had forgotten the part in the gazebo, well, that would make things simpler of course, but she would still remember, and it would change the way she acted around him, and thought about him.

She didn't want to think about him too much on the bus, but she knew he'd be sitting waiting there for her, and if she was going to talk to him about this, like Edna hinted she should, then they probably wouldn't have a better opportunity for a long while. Shirley wouldn't be home and Laverne would have the place to herself. The thing was, she wasn't sure she and Lenny would just talk.

She reminded herself that they were now sober and just because they fooled around at a party under the influence didn't mean it had to lead to more. She didn't want to think about whether she wanted more, especially not while she was worried about Shirley.

She got home and there was Lenny, with three phones, two guitars, a notepad, a pen, and a bouquet of pink roses and blue baby's breath. "Awww, flowers! You shouldn't have!" She tried to make her tone light and joky.

"I didn't."

She blushed, imagining London sending them with a card that said, _"Sorry if I failed the audition. Can I try again?"_ Or would it be thoughtful Malcolm, in gratitude for the snogging?

"They're for Shirley," Lenny said flatly.

"You read the card?"

"I read the envelope. And the delivery guy said, 'Flowers for Shirley DeWoods.' "

"So she did marry Derek!"

"Yeah, and you didn't."

She couldn't read his tone, which was unusual. Lenny was the most open, readable person she knew.

"I'm going to take the flowers upstairs," she said, but he just nodded.

She grabbed the bouquet and headed up. She set the flowers on Shirley's bed, noticing what she hadn't in her rush to get ready for work that morning. Malcolm had made the bed, as neatly as Shirley would've. It was almost like he'd never been there.

She hadn't yet decided how much of last night she'd tell Shirley. She could probably leave out sex with London, since no one but Edna knew about that. Snogging with Malcolm would be harder to keep secret, since Edna, Carmine, and, worse, Squiggy knew about that. As for making out with Lenny, that would be the hardest for Shirley to understand. Lenny wasn't an international celebrity. He was just their goofy friend from the old neighborhood. Wasn't he?

She looked at the bouquet and wondered if she should go get a vase. Maybe she would in the morning, if Shirley still hadn't come home.

Laverne couldn't help being curious about the bouquet. She knew it would be an invasion of privacy to read the card, but under the circumstances she felt like it was allowed. It might provide clues to Shirley's whereabouts.

She assumed the flowers were from Derek, although it could've been a congratulatory bouquet from someone else in the band, most likely considerate Malcolm. She freed the envelope from the bouquet, carefully avoiding the thorns of the roses. She immediately recognized the messy, just legible handwriting, although it was the first time she saw her best friend's name written in it. Although Laverne was 27, she was still like the teenager who soaked up details about Elvis a decade before. She knew Derek DeWoods's scrawl instantly. She easily deciphered the cursive on the card, although that didn't mean she understood the content:

_My Little Star Monkey,_

_If you're reading this, you're home. Well, your home for now. In a couple months, I'll sweep my sweet princess off to a castle. In the meantime, I'll think about you during every song I sing. Except the novelty numbers._

_Kisses,_  
_Derek_  


Laverne felt a pang of jealousy and regret. This could've been her note, from her husband. Sweet, funny Derek. Even the pet name should've been Laverne's, since she thought she looked and acted more like a monkey than Shirley, who was more like a cat.

Laverne put the card back in the envelope and the envelope back in the bouquet. Then she picked up Boo Boo Kitty from the pillow. She chuckled at the thought of Malcolm snuggling with the stuffed black cat when she didn't show up. Then she hugged Boo Boo Kitty and thought of Lenny and Squiggy snuggling. She probably wouldn't mention that when she talked to Lenny, which she knew she was putting off. She sighed and took Boo Boo Kitty downstairs.

Lenny was strumming his guitar, the opening to "I Want to Hold Your Hand." She wondered if he remembered hearing it at the party the night before, after his stoned stroking of her face and hair in the living room. He'd exclaimed, "Oo, I love this song, Laverne! I have to hear it!", and grabbed the speakers to hold them to his ears.

He now stopped playing and looked at her coming down the stairs. His voice was gentle on "You miss her, don't you?"

"Uh, Boo Boo is a boy kitty."

"I know that," he said, because of course he did. "I mean Shirley."

She sighed and sank into the chair closest to the front door, not wanting to sit next to Lenny on the couch, and not just because he'd have to clear a space for her. "I know it's stupid. She hasn't even been gone a day."

"No, but everything's going to be different now that she's married."

"Yeah." She hugged Boo Boo, not caring if it looked babyish.

"What did the note say?"

She didn't bother denying that she'd read it, or saying that it was none of Lenny's business. If she hadn't said goodbye to Lenny, if he hadn't touched her, then she wouldn't have missed her chance to marry Derek DeWoods and he wouldn't have very quickly rebounded to Shirley. "It was from Derek and it didn't really say anything. Just that he's looking forward to seeing her again in a couple months, I guess after the tour's over." Malcolm and London would be back in LA then, too. Even if they didn't visit, she could ask Derek about them, unless she just tried to forget them.

"I thought Shirley was gonna marry London and you were gonna marry Derek."

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," she muttered.

"Sorry," he muttered back.

She looked up from Shirley's stuffed animal. "Oh, Len, I don't mean it like that. It's just, well, you and Squiggy weren't the only ones who got high last night."

He nodded. "Carmine told me about the brownies."

She wondered if Carmine had told Lenny how he happened to hear about them from Malcolm, but she was not going to ask. Instead, she said, "So you know that that's why Shirley did something crazy like elope with a rock & roll star she didn't even have a crush on."

"And why you fooled around with someone you just love as a friend."

She wasn't sure how to answer that. She didn't want him to think they had a future, but it would be hard to deny that his hands were the highlight of the party for her. "Look, Len, I wouldn't have let it go so far ordinarily, but you know I enjoyed myself."

"I made you come, Laverne," he whispered, although there was no one to overhear them. "And maybe that was just the pot enhencing everything, but you're a lot more sensitive than you act."

She felt like a gazebo and he could see right through to her soul and her heart. She tried to be her usual tough-cookie self as she teased, "What about you? One bare foot and you're in La-La Land?"

He blushed a little as he said, "My feet are always like that. Well, I usually don't pass out."

"Remind me never to play footsies with you."

"Don't, Laverne, not right now."

"Well, I'd have to take off my shoes first."

"No, don't, you know, do that thing where you're not quite flirting with me. I can't take it in my fridgile state."

She wanted to give him a comforting hug, but she couldn't risk it right then. She wished Shirley were there to give her advice, although nothing like this had ever come up before. What happened in the gazebo was a far cry from giving Lenny a gentle little kiss like you'd give a baby's boom-boom.

She was trying to figure out what to say, when a voice called from over the Dutch door in the kitchen, "Hi-ho, it's Rhonda!"

Laverne sighed and let go of Boo Boo Kitty. Rhonda's bad timing rivaled Squiggy's, although part of Laverne was grateful to be interrupted just then.

Lenny set aside his guitar and grabbed the notepad. He ripped off one page and went over and handed it to Rhonda, who'd stepped into the kitchen. "Here are your messages," he said, handing her the sheet of paper.

"Thank you, Lenny, but I thought Squiggy was going to take my messages."

"He had to work today."

"Oh, OK." She took the page and skimmed through it. "Oo, that sounds like an interesting blind date! But where am I going to get a trampoline by tomorrow night?"

"Sorry, wrong page." He ripped out another sheet and exchanged that for what was presumably a list of calls for the Squignowski Talent Agency.

She skimmed the other sheet and nodded. "This sounds more like calls for Rhonda. Thanks, Lenny!" She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then sashayed out, with her telephone.

Laverne felt her usual annoyance at Rhonda, who hadn't even noticed her, let alone asked about Laverne's first Hollywood party. She also felt a flicker of jealousy, even though Lenny was probably as attracted to Rhonda as he was to Shirley, although in a different way of course. And she knew she had no right to be jealous, especially considering what she had done after the gazebo, but it was like when she felt like Bridget wasn't good enough for him, the girl he went out with, once, after Laverne told him she didn't return his special feelings. He wasn't right for her but she kind of wanted to be his main crush, unfair as that was.

Lenny came back to the couch and set the notepad next to him again. "You didn't get any calls, by the way."

She nodded. "I kinda figured."

And then the phone rang.


	7. Close Calls

Lenny dove for the phone on the coffee table, while Laverne grabbed the one closer to the door. At least Rhonda's phone was gone, so it was less confusing now. Well, playing receptionist was less confusing now. The stuff with Laverne was more confusing to him than ever.

"Hello, Squignowski Talent Agency of Burbank. How may I direct your call?" Laverne said in a surprisingly posh voice. She reverted to Brooklyn as she hung up and said, "Dial tone." She must've noticed him staring at her, because she defensively said, "What? I can do classy."

He nodded, thinking of how he had once asked her to a debutante ball because she was the classiest girl he knew. But this was on a whole other level.

"Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?"

"Carmine? Is that you?" Lenny said into the girls' phone.

"Yeah, is Laverne back from work yet?"

"Yeah, hold on." Lenny held the receiver out to Laverne.

To his surprise, she cleared a space on the couch for herself and sat next to him. Maybe that was just so he could listen in and she wouldn't have to repeat whatever Carmine had to report, but he was very aware of her closeness.

"Carmine?"

"Laverne? Have you heard anything from Shirley?"

"No, but Derek sent flowers here, to 'Shirley DeWoods,' so she must've gone through with it."

"She did. I found the chapel where they got married last night. But I haven't been able to trace them after that."

"Well, the card with the flowers says he's going on tour and he sent her home."

"But she's not there yet?"

"No. Maybe she's taking a bus, but it shouldn't take that long from Vegas, even on a Sunday."

"Maybe she didn't leave from Vegas."

"Then she could be anywhere!"

Lenny wanted to pull Laverne into a hug, but it was too risky now. He settled for patting her shoulder. She smiled at him although she still looked worried about Shirley.

"Not necessarily. When I dropped off Malcolm at the airport, he said the band's tour starts in San Francisco."

Lenny had wanted to leave his hand on Laverne's shoulder, but now he shifted away from her, as far as he could go on the couch and still hear Carmine. Her guilty, apologetic look didn't help.

She said into the phone, "You think Shirley is in San Francisco, or was?"

"Maybe. Before you told me about the flowers, I was thinking of staying overnight in Vegas and then driving to Frisco in the morning. Now I don't know what to do, especially since Shirley isn't back yet."

"Come home tonight and then we can talk about it in the morning. Unless you're too tired to drive."

"I'm not too tired right now, but if I have to, I'll pull over and take a nap. I wouldn't want Sonny to kill me for wrecking his car."

Laverne again looked guilty, but she said, "Take care of yourself, Carmine."

"You, too, Vernie. Get some sleep tonight."

She blushed, maybe at the old nickname that even Shirley rarely used these days, or maybe at the thought of what she'd done with Lenny last night. She didn't know that Lenny had told Carmine, but maybe she had told Carmine herself before he left for Vegas. Lenny hoped Carmine wouldn't bring it up now, since Carmine clearly didn't know Lenny was listening in.

Then Carmine and Laverne said goodnight and hung up.

Lenny couldn't help asking, "Why did Carmine take Malcolm Bridges to the airport?" At the time Carmine told him about the brownies, Lenny hadn't questioned how Carmine happened to have had a conversation with one of the hosts of a party Carmine hadn't attended. Lenny had too much else on his mind, including that the brownies had a secret ingredient.

Laverne hesitated and then she said, "After you passed out, I went back in the house, but Malcolm said Derek and Shirley had eloped. I asked him to call me a cab, because I didn't see the point in sticking around the party. And, um, I invited him back to my place."

Lenny felt jealous of course, even if he had no right to be. He was also worried about Laverne, particularly since she had been high last night and hadn't known it at the time. "You did?" he said quietly.

"Yeah. We just kissed but he slept over, in Shirley's bed.

That didn't sound too bad. Laverne had kissed a lot of guys. "And then Carmine took him to the airport in the morning?"

"Yeah, he hoped to get some information out of him, which is how I found out about the brownies."

Lenny nodded. "And when you invited Malcolm over, you were high, right?"

"Everything I did last night was because I was high."

That hurt, but maybe it was better that she was honest. "I touched you because I was high, but I don't regret it."

"Oh, Len, I don't really either, but I feel like if we tried to build on that, we'd be making a huge mistake."

Lenny knew as well as anyone his best friend's uncanny ability to enter a room right after someone said something that would make a great entrance line. Usually but not always, it was one of the girls. Often Lenny would be at his side, but sometimes Squiggy burst in on his own, like the time Lenny fell for Laverne and slept over on her couch. (The couch the girls sold before leaving Milwaukee, not this couch where he was sitting not as close to Laverne as he'd like.) Lenny had said, "It is unbelievable, Shirl, but, but just when you least expect it, love walks through the door." Squiggy had slammed the door open and angrily said, "Hello! Len, I was lookin' for you everywhere. I was a worried stiff."

Even though he could feel it coming, Lenny still flinched when Squiggy burst in wearing his ice-cream-man suit and holding a wad of cash. "Hello. Any messages?"

"Uh, yeah." Lenny realized he was sitting on the piece of paper he'd accidentally given to Rhonda, so he got up, went over, and handed Squiggy the STAB call list.

Squiggy skimmed it, murmuring, "I don't know where we'll find a trampoline by tomorrow night, but I'll look into it." Then he looked up and said, "Laberne, when did you get home?"

"A little while ago."

"Good thing you have Lenny to keep you company while you wait to hear from your progidy roommate."

"Yeah," she said softly.

Squiggy looked at her more closely, and then he looked at Lenny from head to toe, before turning back to her and scolding, "Laverne Maxine DeFazio, are you wearing undergarnishments?"

She didn't bother to point out that her middle name wasn't Maxine but just snapped, "Of course!"

"Then why have you disrobed Lenny's feet and left your lip-prints all over his face?"

"I never put on my shoes today," Lenny answered before Laverne could yell at Squiggy. "And this is Rhonda's lipstick."

"Rhonda kissed you?"

"Just once and on the cheek."

Squiggy reached up and scraped off some of the bright orange lipstick from Lenny's cheek. He licked his own fingernail and then murmured, "Mmm, Midnight Mango Tango."

"Yeah, next time you can take her messages."

"I will. As for you two, the reefer gas has fully dippissated from my brain and I'm starting to wonder about that panty raid story that the Big Raccoon swallowed so gulfportly."

The girls' phone rang again and Squiggy grabbed it before Laverne could. "Hello? Yeah, she's sitting right here, talking to Lenny. Well, he's standing now but he was sitting on the couch with her when I walked in."

Laverne looked nervous as she held out her hand for the receiver, as if she was afraid it was Sonny calling from Italy. Squiggy didn't seem to notice as he listened to whoever was calling. "Sure, we'll be right down there." He hung up and said, "Lenny, go put on your shoes so you don't get a ticket for driving in your socks again."

"Uh, where are we going?"

"To Union Station to pick up Shirley."

"That was Shirley?" Laverne cried. "Why didn't you let me talk to her?"

"You can talk to her in the truck if you go with us. Or you two can stay up all night talking and giggling like overage schoolgirls."

Laverne looked like she was biting back a retort and then she muttered, "I'll go change out of my waitress uniform and meet you two by the truck."

"I'll go get my shoes and the keys," Lenny mumbled, wishing he could talk to Laverne some more, without interruptions. Shirley was back in town and she would definitely not want Laverne to get with Lenny. Not that he had much chance with Laverne, but that would drop to zero now.

He knew Squiggy would follow him out and want him to kiss and tell, even though he and Laverne hadn't actually kissed lately. Well, touch and tell. Lenny would have to pretend nothing, or nothing much, had happened in the gazebo, since it was clear nothing else was going to happen.

And Lenny would do his best to act happy that Shirley was coming home safe and sound, and married to a stranger.


	8. Keep on Truckin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, like Season Six, contains deliberate anachronisms.

Union Station is a half hour from Burbank, but Shirley had been waiting over an hour when she finally heard the instrumental version of "Sugar Sugar" bounce out into the night. And then the boys' white ice cream truck pulled into view.

Laverne leapt out of the back of the truck as soon as Lenny braked. She ran over to Shirley, threw her arms around her, and cried, "Shirl, I'm so sorry! We were literally lost without you!"

"I told you not to go through Malibu," Squiggy said, and Lenny defensively replied, "There was less traffic that way."

For the third time that night, Shirley wished she hadn't used up her cab fare on train food, but she hadn't eaten anything else since the brownies at the party.

"It's all right," she told Laverne as she hugged back.

When they let go, they exchanged looks that said that they had a lot to talk about, but it could all wait until they were free of Lenny and Squiggy.

Shirley followed Laverne into the back of the truck. No sooner had Shirley shut the door behind her than Squiggy hung over the back of his seat and scolded, "Shirley Wilhelminy Feeney, I am a pallbearer at your recluse behavior!"

"Just a minute, Andrew. Before you launch into what I'm sure will be an impressively hypocritical lecture—"

"Thank you."

"I want to check the map so I can give Lenny better directions."

"Thanks, Shirl," Lenny said as he passed the map back to Laverne.

As Laverne handed the map off to her, Shirley remembered Lenny once telling her that they all relied on her to tell them what to do. He used the example of her keeping them from getting lost by reading the maps on the road to Burbank. The last twenty-four hours had made her doubt her sense of direction, in more than one sense, but she thought she could at least still read a map.

After she told Lenny the best route home and he thanked her again, she neatly refolded the map and said, "Go ahead, Squiggy."

"Shirley Wilhelminy Feeney, I am a pallbearer at your recluse behavior! Eloping with a rock & roll star you just met!"

She knew his outrage was an act. He'd been perfectly calm on the phone, although she was still annoyed that he hung up before she could talk to Laverne. But that conversation could wait. As Lenny drove off, Shirley half listened to a rant that included the phrases "pure as the driven Ivory soap," "your perky little nose peeping up from my bathwater," and "at least it wasn't just voe-dee-oh-doe like a common grouper." She found it strangely comforting, unlike his reefer-induced paranoia the night before.

When he paused to breathe, or maybe to come up with fresh malaprops, she said, "I'll admit that it wasn't my dream wedding to a doctor."

Lenny hadn't said anything since his second "thanks, Shirl," but he now said, "You shoulda married Dr. John."

Laverne snorted. "Or Dr. Hook and his medicine show."

"The witch doctor?" Lenny suggested, and then he and Laverne started singing the novelty tune, which Shirley also found comforting.

"Ooo eee, ooo ah ah," Squiggy said impatiently. "Lenny, focus on your driving."

Lenny clammed up but Laverne rebelliously muttered, "Walla Walla bing bang."

"Anyway, Shirl, since you got married, you know what that means."

She blushed and said, "You don't have to spell it out."

"I bet he can't spell it out," Laverne taunted.

"A-L-I-M-O-N-E-Y!" Squiggy cried triumphantly.

"Ali money?" Shirley said, wrinkling her forehead.

"Mony! Mony!" Squiggy shouted.

Laverne of course sang the chorus of "Mony Mony," and Lenny risked chiming in on the mo's.

Shirley waited until they were finished before she said, "I'm not planning to divorce Derek."

All three of her friends looked at her, although Lenny used the driving mirror and then put his eyes back on the road.

"You're not?" Laverne said quietly.

Shirley didn't want to go into it in front of the boys, so she just said, "I have to give him a chance."

"In that case," Squiggy said before Laverne could say anything else, "let's talk management."

"Management?"

"I'm pretty sure London's Bridges doesn't need a talent agent," Laverne said drily.

"Ah, but what if Derek DeWords launched a solon career with Shirley?"

"You want Shirley to sing with Derek?" Laverne said in surprise.

"They could be the next Sonny and Chair."

"Cher," Lenny quietly corrected.

"Of course you'll get your share, Len. We're partners, fifty-sixty."

Lenny and Squiggy's friendship went back even further than Laverne and Shirley's. In some ways the boys were closer, less likely to argue, more likely to talk or even move in sync, like twins who looked nothing alike. And yet, there was no doubt that the smaller man was the leader, while the taller man still had the gratitude and insecurity of the little boy whose mommy didn't love him enough to stick around for kindergarten. This brought out Shirley's maternal side, even when she was herself a little girl used to being overprotected by four older, taller brothers.

The tough tomboy from Brooklyn reacted differently when she moved to the neighborhood, especially after she lost her own mother. Sometimes she acted like one of the boys, and other times she was disgusted by them. And "Squiggly and Wiggly," as Shirley's mother called them to this day, were more disgusting than most boys. Laverne and Squiggy often butted heads, occasionally literally, and Shirley and Lenny were the peacemakers.

Lenny and Laverne's friendship was more playful, although later complicated by puberty and his fluctuating crush on Laverne. Sometimes, like Squiggy, he could insult her to her face, but more often his teasing took the form of leering and grabbing, like snapping her bra at the Pizza Bowl well into their early 20s. Other times, Lenny looked at Laverne in awe, like a goddess, although Laverne was as down to earth as could be. Even the way Laverne rejected Lenny was direct and to the point, although she freely admitted she loved Lenny as a friend, something Shirley was still hesitant to say about either boy.

"Leonard, there's the onramp you need to take."

"Thanks, Shirl."

"You're welcome. Squiggy, I have no intention of being known as the girl who broke up London's Bridges. Or of using my husband to launch a singing career."

"You have no imagination, Woman."

The four of them fell silent, until Lenny quietly sang, "Drivin' down the highway, slowin' at the shoulders and huggin' those curves."

Laverne sang back, "We're drivin' down the highway, but it's not the road that gets on my nerves."

This was a more obscure song than the others Laverne and Lenny sang earlier. Shirley didn't recognize it. Perhaps it was of Lenny's own composing, like the "Milwaukee Moon" song he taught them all one hot summer. Laverne didn't sing any more of this song, so maybe that was all she knew. As for Lenny, he focused on his driving again before Squiggy could scold him.

Shirley thought of how she'd tried to explain Lenny and Squiggy to her new husband. And she wondered where Carmine was and if he knew about her elopement, but she didn't dare ask. She'd wait until she and Laverne were alone.

There was one question that felt safe to ask. "Lenny, why are you wearing a ski hat?"

He sounded embarrassed as he said, "I couldn't get all the curls out of my hair," and she remembered the boys dressed as Simon and Garfunkel.

"Now it's a semi-permanent." Squiggy chuckled.

"Squig, you got any Fudgicles left?"

"Nope, all sold out," he said proudly.

Laverne frowned and the sounds of silence again filled the truck labeled "Squignoski's [sic] Ice Cream and Talent."


	9. Laverne & Shirley: Together Again

As Lenny followed his roommate into Apartment 113 ¼, Laverne's eyes drifted down to his tight tushie. Laverne was usually attracted to more muscular men, like Sonny and Randy, but Lenny's lankiness had its own unique appeal, especially in blue jeans. She shook her head and reminded herself that, the stoned heavy petting aside, this was her old friend Lenny Kosnowski. The boys' door shut and she followed her roommate into Apartment 113 ½.

Shirley looked around the first floor as if she expected the apartment to have changed as much in the twenty-seven hours since they left for the party as her life had. The boys had taken home their phone and Lenny's guitar. Boo Boo Kitty was back on Shirley's bed, next to the bouquet.

Shirley sighed and said, "It's good to be home."

"Your home for now," Laverne couldn't help quoting Derek's card.

"Yes," Shirley said quietly.

Laverne shut the door and came over to give Shirley a side hug. "I was so worried about you, Shirl!" She meant it, although she was guiltily aware that she'd spent much of the day thinking about her own crazy love life.

"I was worried about you, too, Vernie. I wanted to call earlier to see if you'd come home, but I was on the train all day."

Laverne let go. "I was at Cowboy Bill's."

"The restaurant!" Shirley gasped. "Oh, poor Edna!"

"It was fine. We weren't that busy and Rosita came in on her day off."

"Doesn't she need Sundays to study for law school?"

"She brought a couple textbooks and read them when it was quiet."

"Good for her."

"Yeah." Laverne thought of making a joke about whether Shirley needed a divorce lawyer, but it wasn't really something to joke about.

Shirley sat on one end of the couch and Laverne sat on the other. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

Laverne answered, "You," because she did really want to know how Shirley had ended up marrying Derek, and because she still hadn't decided how much to tell Shirley about the guys she'd fooled around with last night. It'd been easy to skip over London to Malcolm when talking to Lenny, guilty though she felt about it. She would probably at least admit to snogging Malcolm, but not yet.

Shirley's story began, "After you ran off to say goodbye to Lenny...."

Laverne was sure Shirley was dying to ask what happened with Lenny, especially as she continued on and told of how she had waited for Laverne in front of the house and at the airport. But they both understood that this was Shirley's turn, and Laverne did her best not to interrupt.

Still, she couldn't help saying, "He loved you more than me?" when Shirley got to Derek's explanation of the proposal on the plane.

"I'm sorry, Vernie," Shirley said gently.

Laverne shook her head. "It's stupid. I don't even know the guy, not really."

"You knew him better than I did. Liked him better than I did."

Laverne swallowed and nodded. She knew it was greedy to still want Derek, but of the four men who touched her last night, the one who held her hand had been the one she was most attracted to. She reminded herself that this was Shirley's husband, a husband Shirley apparently was not going to give up.

Shirley added, "I'd feel the same way if London had proposed to you because he loved you more than me."

Laverne knew then that she could never tell Shirley about jumping London. It was one thing to marry a man who was crazy about you, and very much another to have a quickie in a bathroom with someone who just got left at the altar, well, at the taxi to the airport to the altar, by your best friend. And Laverne didn't think that Shirley would buy the excuses of marijuana brownies and Kosnowski foreplay.

"I'm sorry I stole Derek, Vernie."

Laverne snorted. "He wasn't mine to steal. And anyway, what'd you do? The Shirley Shimmy at both guys while you were waiting for the cab?" Laverne did an exaggerated version of Shirley's shoulder-shake.

Shirley laughed but shook her head. "I don't know why either of them fell for me."

"Come on, Shirl. You're smart, pretty, and sweet."

"So are you."

"Not as smart and pretty as you. And definitely not as sweet."

"I got better grades than you in school, but you're street smart. And you're pretty in your own way."

Laverne snorted. "Thanks." She'd rather be pretty like Shirley, the girl-next-door type.

"And you're much nicer to, more patient with, Lenny and Squiggy than I am."

Laverne tried not to blush at the mention of Lenny. "Well, I have a higher tolerance for weirdness than you do."

Shirley sighed and asked, "Then why did I have such a weird night?"

Laverne had planned to wait until the end of Shirley's story to tell her about the brownies, but she realized she had to say something. "Shirl, about last night."

"I know, Laverne, it was so unlike me to agree to marry not just one but two men I just met. Do you think maybe I had too much to drink last night?"

"Shirley, you were stoned last night, but not on alcohol."

Shirley gasped. "Did I smoke one of Malcolm's funny cigarettes?"

"No, but you ate a lot of brownies."

"Are you saying I'm a diabetic and I had an allergic reaction to the sugar or something?"

Laverne sighed. She would have to spell it out. "Shirl, someone baked marijuana into the brownies."

Shirley stared at her.

"So, yes, London and Derek are both cute, talented, and famous, and an ordinary girl would probably be thrilled to marry either of them. But it would take hidden cannabis to make a sensible, cautious virgin like Shirley Feeney agree to elope with either, let alone both."

Shirley blushed but she said, "So, wait, if I did that, what effect did the brownies have on you?"

Laverne also blushed but mumbled, "Nothing that crazy. Anyway, it's still your turn."

Shirley hesitated but went on with her story. She told of the wedding ceremony on the Vegas strip, the flight to San Francisco, and checking into a fancy hotel. Laverne listened with amusement, concern, and jealousy. The ceremony sounded funny and she wished she could've seen it, stoned or sober. She was worried about Shirley having both made a lifetime commitment to and lost her precious virginity to a man she didn't love, while under the influence of a drug she hadn't been aware of ingesting. Yet Laverne couldn't help envying her for landing Derek DeWoods without even trying.

She tried to hide her jealousy as Shirley, blushing again, told of kissing Derek, while they were both naked in bed. But when Shirley said, "...And then the next morning—", Laverne whined, "Come on, Shirl, don't skip over the best part!"

Shirley shook her head. "I don't remember."

"How can you not remember? It was your first time, and with a rock star!"

"Laverne, I ate a lot of brownies."

Laverne almost exclaimed, "So did I, but I remember having sex with London, and I wasn't a virgin!" She stopped herself in time and said, "So the next morning?"

Shirley sighed and continued. "I woke up naked and alone in a hotel, not remembering anything."

"Oh, Shirl!" Laverne gave her a quick hug.

"I was still so dazed that I wasn't as upset as I probably should've been. I didn't even know what town I was in. I had what I thought was a hangover."

Laverne put her hand to her own head and nodded empathetically. "Yeah, but different than from beer or other alcohol, right?"

"Yes. A few things came back to me, but I was very surprised when a delivery boy brought me flowers from my 'husband.' "

"He sent you some here, too."

"He did? He's more thoughtful than I would've guessed before I met him."

"Except for abandoning you in a hotel room in San Francisco," Laverne had to point out.

"Well, the band is going on tour today."

Laverne could've pointed out that Malcolm's flight to San Francisco wasn't too early in the morning, but she bit her tongue this time, not yet ready to tell Shirley about Malcolm's visit.

"And his note was sweet and funny, and he included a train ticket and cab fare. Fare to the San Francisco train station I mean. I still had the cab fare to get us home from the party, but I ended up spending that on train food. How did you get home by the way?"

Laverne tried not to blush as she said, "I'll tell you when it's my turn."

"I'm almost done. I thought that the flowers were from London, because I sort of remembered him proposing. And he was the one I had a crush on."

"Right," Laverne said quietly.

"So that was an adjustment obviously. But I got dressed and took a cab to the train station. And everything, well, everything I could remember, came back to me on the train."

"Shirl." Laverne hesitated and then went on. "Is it possible that you and Derek didn't, um, go all the way?"

"I don't know. I mean, my body." Shirley blushed yet again. "I don't feel any different. Down there."

"Yeah, but, well, you remember my, um, vat experience?"

"When you were chasing the industrial spy?"

"No, my other vat experience at Shotz."

"Oh! You mean, you think...?"

"Well, I couldn't tell if I'd, well, voe-dee-oh-doed, and then I went to see Edna's doctor and he said my, you know, was still intact."

Shirley seemed to think that over and then she said, "Derek's card, I mean the one with the bouquet he sent to the hotel, said that he wished he could give me a 'proper honeymoon.' But I just thought he meant going to Niagara Falls or Paris or somewhere."

"And maybe he did. But you need to find out how far you went with him."

Shirley shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"How can you say that?"

"Well, I mean, yes, it matters in that I'd always hoped I'd remember my first time and it would be special. But it doesn't matter in terms of whether I'm going to stay married to Derek."

"I don't understand."

"Look, obviously, this wasn't how or who I wanted to marry. But I have made a commitment, even if it was one I made when I wasn't sober."

"Shirl, you can get it annulled!"

"I might. Or I might get a divorce if I have to, but I'm not going to make that decision yet. Derek loves me and he treats me well. I owe it to him to get to know him and see if he's someone I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Laverne didn't know how to argue with that. At least Shirley was willing to consider the possibility of ending the marriage. And maybe for once Shirley's high-in-the-sky, never-landing-balloon optimism was right. Maybe she would be happy with Derek.

"Laverne, why didn't you show up for the wedding?"

"What was I supposed to do? Get London on the rebound?" Laverne risked cracking.

"No, but you could've caught the cab with us, or at least been my maid of honor in Las Vegas."

Laverne swallowed. "When I went to the gazebo to say goodbye to Lenny, we started talking. And, well, time wasn't moving normally, because of the brownies I guess, although I didn't realize it at the, um, time."

Shirley nodded. "So you missed the cab."

"Yeah, and when I went back to the house, Malcolm said you and Derek had eloped."

"I didn't know we were eloping. He hadn't proposed yet."

"Right, but I guess Malcolm knew Derek wanted to marry you."

Shirley nodded. "He seems like someone the other lads could confide in."

"Yeah. Anyway, I asked Malcolm to order me a cab, although I forgot that you had the cab fare."

"Sorry, I guess we should've made plans for if we left the party separately."

Laverne shook her head. "I don't see how we could've possibly planned for last night."

Shirley sighed. "I guess not. So how did you pay for the cab?"

Blushing a little, Laverne said, "Um, Malcolm paid for it. Since I invited him home."

"Laverne!" Shirley gasped, making Laverne very glad she'd skipped over London in the jolly room.

"We just snogged." Shirley's eyes widened, so Laverne said, "That's British for hugging and kissing."

"Oh." Shirley sounded relieved, but maybe a little disappointed, like she lived vicariously through Laverne more than she'd admit.

"He did sleep over, not with me, and then in the morning Carmine drove him to the airport to get information out of him. That's how I know about the brownies."

"Carmine knows about the party?"

"Well, yeah, Edna told him we were going, and then he came over this morning to ask about it."

"So he knows about my elopement?"

"Well, yeah, but at that point I thought it was with London. But Malcolm told him it was with Derek, and by the time I talked to Carmine again, I remembered Malcolm telling me, so anyway, Carmine went to Vegas."

"Carmine's in Vegas?"

"He was but he's on his way back. I think when he left, he knew he was too late to stop the wedding, but he wanted to talk to you about it, maybe rescue you, at least find out if you went through with it."

"Darling Carmine!"

"Shirl...."

Shirley shook her head. "I know what you want me to say, Laverne. You want me to leave Derek and recognize Carmine's love and devotion."

"That might be nice."

"I do love Carmine and I know he loves me, and has for years. But I think if we were ever going to get married, it would've happened by now."

"Has he ever asked?"

"Well, no, but I think it's because he knows I'd say no."

"Is it that you're not in love with him?"

"I guess. I mean, there are moments when I feel like I am. But I've never, well, thought of him as marriage material."

"Because he's not a professional man?"

"Maybe. And I know what you're thinking, Derek isn't a doctor or a lawyer either. But he's successful in his career."

"Shirley, it's your fault Carmine gave up a successful business to come out here and deliver singing telegrams."

"I never told him to move to California. That was his decision."

"Because he's nuts about you!"

Shirley sighed. "Laverne, it's been a very long day and we have to go to work tomorrow."

"Hey, you're a married lady now, with a successful husband. You don't need Bardwell's Department Store anymore."

"Derek and I haven't discussed whether I'll keep working."

"There's a lot you and your hubby haven't discussed. Like what if he got you pregnant on your wedding night?"

Shirley gasped again, as if this hadn't occurred to her yet. "Oh, Vernie, do you think I am?"

Laverne felt guilty for taunting her. "I don't know, Shirl. Do you want me to set up an appointment with my doctor?"

"Isn't it too soon to tell if I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah, but it's not too soon to tell if you're 'pure as the driven Ivory soap.' "

Shirley laughed at Laverne's Squiggy imitation, then sighed and said, "Let me sleep on all this."

Both girls headed upstairs. They changed into their sleepwear and then Shirley cuddled Boo Boo Kitty as she sniffed Derek's bouquet and read his card.

"Uh, Shirl, what happened to the bouquet that Derek sent to you in Frisco?" Shirley had come home with no luggage besides her white purse.

"Oh, I must've left it in the hotel room. At least I have these," Shirley said as she set the pink & blue bouquet on the night stand.

Laverne tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice as she said, "Yeah. Goodnight, Shirley."

"Goodnight, Laverne," Shirley yawned and turned out the light.


	10. In the Clearing Stands a Boxer

Like all of the characters in our story, with the possible exception of band members of London's Bridges, Carmine Ragusa woke up alone Monday morning. He was used to this, especially in California, where he hadn't really dated anyone but Shirley. Mostly that morning, he was just glad to be in his own bed. Laverne had been right to tell him to come home, even though he got in after midnight. He'd wanted to stop by the girls' apartment, but he was exhausted from driving to and from Las Vegas, not to mention running around that town trying to trace his girlfriend and her husband. Also, he still hadn't worked out what he wanted to say to Shirley. He hoped she would get a divorce but he didn't know how to convince her. Still, it was promising that she had probably come home, and as soon as she could.

He got out of bed and showered and dressed. As he shaved, he knew he wanted to look nice for Shirley, although she might never again stroke his face with her soft, delicate hands. It was hard for him to take this marriage seriously though, to see Shirley as a married woman.

He'd always recognized the possibility of Shirley marrying someone else. She had never made it a secret that she wanted to marry a doctor, or at least a professional man. Carmine had just a high school diploma and he knew he couldn't compete academically with men who'd been to college. However, he felt like he'd learn a lot at the School of Hard Knocks, literally when he was a boxer.

It bothered him more when he couldn't afford to buy nice things for her, like her richer dates could. He thought she deserved the best, and he hated that he couldn't give it to her. But Shirley was a working-class girl from Milwaukee and the odds of her actually marrying someone with money were small.

And then she met this Derek Dewoods guy at a Hollywood party. Well, no, she met him at Cowboy Bill's. She would've looked very cute in her cowgirl uniform with the denim miniskirt. Derek had known she was a waitress, although maybe not that that wasn't her regular job. It was better than being a brewery bottle-capper, but even her gift-wrapping job at Bardwell's wouldn't have impressed your ordinary rich guy. Maybe a rock & roll star wouldn't care as much about class, even if he was British, since he'd have gotten rich quick on his own talents.

That was another thing that bugged him about this marriage, that she had married a singer. If Derek had been successful in another field, Carmine would've still been jealous, but in a less competitive way.

The worst part though, other than that she'd married someone besides Carmine of course, was that it had all happened so quickly. If Lenny hadn't overheard Richie Cunningham propose to Shirley to save Fonzie's life a few years ago, and if Carmine hadn't gotten to the farm in time to stop the shotgun double wedding, well, Carmine would've been upset and disappointed, but at least Shirley wouldn't have married a stranger. Carmine liked Richie and knew he was a good kid, a little young for Shirley, but kind and loyal, smart and ambitious. She had definitely dated worse guys over the years. The wedding was sudden but Shirley and Richie had known each other for a few years. (As for Laverne almost marrying Fonzie, Carmine had no problem with that, other than that both of them would have had to settle down and be monogamous.)

If Shirley and Derek had started dating after he invited her to the Hollywood party, maybe kept it as a long-distance thing except when he passed through Southern California, Carmine would've been jealous but more accepting. Even a whirlwind courtship would've been allowable. But this? Marrying a guy she'd never even spoken to until that day?

She never would've done that ordinarily, although apparently she did once get sort of swept off her feet by a guy, "Ensign Benson" Laverne had laughingly told Carmine, on a cruise. But that was over several days. And it wasn't under the influence of an illicit drug that Shirley wasn't even aware she was taking.

"Did Laverne know what was in the brownies when you went home with her?" Carmine had asked the previous morning in Sonny's car. He'd tried to make the question sound casual rather than threatening. He'd wanted to throw Malcolm Bridges off a bridge, but he knew that wouldn't help Shirley.

A couple minutes earlier, Carmine had said, "I hope Laverne's hangover doesn't bother her too much at work today."

Malcolm chuckled. "Well, it's not exactly a hangover."

"Not exactly?"

"Well, she had loads of special brownies."

"Special?"

"You know, with a special ingredient." Malcolm winked.

Carmine didn't know, but it sounded like Malcolm was talking about some kind of drug. Carmine then asked the question about Laverne that he hoped sounded casual, although he was really asking about Shirley, in case she had eaten the brownies, too.

"I assume so," Malcolm said, "although we didn't talk about it. She refused my jay earlier, but then she had some brownies, and she lit up in the jolly room with London before she asked me to ring for a taxi."

Carmine didn't understand all of that either, and not just because his passenger was British. He thought a jay might be a joint, as in a marijuana cigarette, especially if Laverne was lighting something up in a place called the jolly room.

But what really caught Carmine's attention was Laverne's companion in the jolly room. "Didn't London elope with Shirley?"

"No, that was Derek, although London wanted to."

It was an explanation that made things even more confusing. "Two men wanted to elope with Shirley last night?"

"Well, she's a pretty bird."

Carmine couldn't argue with that, although it made him think of mynas. He had to ask, "Did Shirley have any brownies?" He couldn't picture Shirley Feeney smoking reefer, although he could definitely picture Laverne. His sweetie did have a sweet tooth, as he knew well from a dozen Valentine's Days and other occasions where he'd given her the best chocolate he could afford. If Shirley were going to try pot, it would have to be in the form of brownies.

"Oh yeah, both birds had their share, and more."

That helped explain why Shirley had eloped with a stranger. If she had turned into a reefer zombie, well, she was going to do things she wouldn't normally do. But would she normally try marijuana?

As calmly as he could, he asked, "Did Shirley know what was in the brownies?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Wouldn't Lavinia have told her?"

Carmine wasn't so sure about that. He could picture Laverne wanting Shirley to loosen up and have fun at their first Hollywood party. Laverne might plan to tell Shirley after the fact, but maybe she didn't have a chance when Shirley ran off with Derek.

"What was Laverne doing when Shirley eloped?"

"Saying goodbye to a friend."

"Goodbye? So Laverne was going with them, as bridesmaid or something?"

Malcolm chuckled again. "She was eloping, too. With Derek, who switched to Shirley when Lavinia, I mean Laverne, didn't show up to catch the cab."

It didn't sound like Derek DeWoods cared who he married, which worried Carmine but also gave him hope. It sounded like Derek was using the girls, and Laverne had escaped his clutches, but poor innocent Shirley hadn't. Still, at least Carmine wouldn't have to pry apart two people who thought they'd fallen madly in love at first sight. Once Shirley was sober, he could talk some sense into her.

As for Laverne's "friend," Carmine had a pretty good idea who that was, although he didn't then know exactly how Lenny had achieved his adolescent dream of getting Laverne out of her panties, even if she was high as a kite.

"Er, she's not your bird, is she?"

Carmine did not think this was the time, place, or audience to try to explain his relationship with Shirley. He particularly didn't want Malcolm to know that he had an interest in who, how, why, or if Shirley got married. "Well, we've dated but we're not exclusive."

"Good. For the record, we just snogged."

This understandably threw Carmine. He still didn't know what snogging was, and he couldn't fathom when Shirley could've fit it in when she already had a busy night agreeing to elope with two men. "Just snogging?"

"Yeah, I didn't know she had her knickers off until that daft bloke threw them at me."

So Malcolm was talking about Laverne, hoping that Carmine wasn't Laverne's jealous boyfriend. Carmine thought Laverne was sexy, but he mostly thought of her as a friend. There had been a time, about seven years ago, when they became infatuated with each other and made out a little, but they came to their senses. It wasn't just that she was his girlfriend's best friend, although the guilt of that was a factor. Even if Shirley were out of the picture, Carmine knew he and Laverne wouldn't work as a couple, since they were too alike in the wrong ways and they would've spent a lot of time arguing. He was fond of her though, and if he hadn't been so worried about Shirley, he would've spent more time worrying about Laverne. (Especially after he heard Lenny's confession.) But Laverne was tough and could take of herself, and she hadn't actually eloped Saturday night.

"That 'daft bloke' was Squiggy," he told Malcolm.

"Yeah, the one who looks like Paul Simon."

Carmine definitely didn't see a resemblance but he wasn't going to argue about it. "Yeah, he said Shirley eloped to Vegas."

"That was the plan." Malcolm sighed and shook his head. "I hope the wedding night doesn't spill too far into this morning, because our tour starts in San Francisco today."

Carmine tried not to imagine Derek waking up his bride and making love to her. "So your flight is to San Francisco?"

"Yeah." Malcolm glanced at his watch. "In half an hour."

"We'll make it," Carmine said, wishing he had more time to ask his passenger questions but grateful for what he'd learned. He wished he could find out why Derek was so desperate to get married quickly, but it was unlikely that Derek's bandmate would reveal that truth. So instead, Carmine asked, "Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is snogging?"

Malcolm chuckled yet again and told him.

And now Carmine was going back to the girls' apartment to find out if Shirley had done more than snogging with a British rock & roll star. He knew she had gone through with the wedding, but he didn't know about the wedding night, since he hadn't found them in any Vegas hotels the afternoon after. Laverne thought Shirley was heading home yesterday, since Derek had sent his bride a bouquet there, but had she actually returned? If not, Carmine was prepared to call in sick and drive, fly, or even swim to Frisco. He'd follow his Angel Face to the ends of the earth to get her back, or at least make sure she was safe.

To start with, he went down the staircase of the faux-Spanish four-unit bungalow. He went to Apartment 113 ½, although he glanced at Apartment 113 ¼, wondering how the guys were doing and if they were fully recovered from the reefer gas by now. He was amused wondering what sort of stoned misadventures Squiggy had at and after the party, but he pitied Lenny. Yes, Lenny had finally gotten to third base with Laverne, but only because she'd been high.

He did his special knock, thinking of how much had changed in the roughly twenty-four hours since he went over to tease the girls about their first Hollywood party. He prepared himself for the disappointment of Laverne answering the door and telling him that Shirley still hadn't come home. But there Shirley was on the other side of the door, in her Bardwell's blazer and a neat blouse and skirt.

"Carmine," she whispered.

"Mrs. DeWoods I presume," he said and then wanted to kick himself.

She frowned. "Carmine, it's really complicated."

"Complicated?" he echoed.

"Shirl, have you seen my blazer?" Laverne called from up in the bedroom.

"It's in the closet!" Shirley yelled back. Then she softly said, "Carmine, I know you're worried about me, which is sweet, but I want to give Derek a chance."

"A chance?"

Before Shirley could explain, the phone rang.

Carmine scowled, and he rarely scowled at Shirley. "You'd better get that. It's probably your husband."

He ran back up the stairs, ignoring her calling after him. If she'd followed after him, he would've pulled her into a hug, apologized, done whatever he could to make things right between them. But, as he would learn hours later, she answered the telephone.

He returned to his apartment, changed into his telegram-deliveryman uniform, and then made his own phone call, to the person in the building he liked least.


	11. Every Hunger...Every Emotion...Every Shame...Every Fear!

Anyone who knew Laverne and Shirley, including the girls themselves, would've told you that Shirley was the bigger nag. But Laverne had spent every moment of the workday when there weren't customers in the gift wrapping department nagging Shirley. Shirley knew Laverne meant well, and she didn't entirely disagree, but she just wanted to focus on work for eight hours and forget the crazy weekend and its never-ending fallout.

"Just let me make an appointment, Shirl. You can always cancel it later." And, "You need to talk to Carmine, no matter what your decision is about Derek." Laverne didn't nag Shirley about making a decision about Derek, although she'd made her opinion of the marriage clear. Laverne at least seemed to realize that, unlike a visit to the doctor or a conversation with a hurt and angry ex-boyfriend, this couldn't be finished in an hour or less.

Of the two things Laverne was nagging her about, Shirley felt that the conversation with Carmine was the one she shouldn't postpone. The longer she waited to see the doctor, the more accurate the pregnancy test would be. Yes, she could go tomorrow and find out whether or not she was still a virgin, but what if she wasn't? She'd still have to go back again later for the pregnancy test.

Carmine wouldn't keep. If she waited a month or two to explain her marriage to him, he might not even listen to her.

When they got home and were alone, although just as likely to be interrupted as they were at work, Shirley said, "I'll go up and invite him to dinner."

When the phone rang that morning, Shirley hesitated to answer because Carmine was standing at her door. He was as handsome as ever, but more out of reach than when he dumped her for a divorcée who was well-endowed in both senses. Lucille Lockwash gave Carmine sex and other gifts and she let him drive her car. She also kept promising to take Carmine to Europe, although something kept coming up to make her postpone the trip. Mrs. Lockwash got what she wanted from him right there in Cream City.

Even while Shirley and Carmine weren't dating, she was still his Angel Face. He was still protective and affectionate, just platonically.

When they got back together, they agreed they were free to see other people, or as Shirley half-joked to Laverne, Shirley could date other men and Carmine could date ugly women. The main thing was they should just do their best not to rub each other's face in it.

Their arrangement worked, not perfectly but well enough. Yet her elopement obviously changed things, even if she might later decide on an annulment or divorce. She didn't want Carmine to think they still might have a future together, even in the short term. Yet she didn't want to lose someone who meant so much to her, who had been a part of her life for so long.

She wanted to follow him when he stormed upstairs that morning, but she thought it might be better to let him cool off. And the phone was ringing and she was closer to being ready for work than Laverne was.

She knew Carmine's taunt might've been accurate. It might be her husband calling. After all, if Derek could send her two bouquets in one day, then he could certainly call long distance from his tour. She didn't want to ignore him if he was calling, especially since she hadn't had a chance to talk to him sober since before his proposal to Laverne.

She obviously wasn't thrilled that she had unknowingly consumed marijuana, but she'd decided it wasn't much worse than getting married drunk, as she'd assumed on the train. She didn't blame Derek, who probably wasn't aware of how atypical her behavior had been Saturday night. She found herself wondering if he would like her as much in her usual condition, and she couldn't help recalling the time she thought she was a stripper named Roxy. Not that she knew much about what she'd said and done while she took on that wild personality, just what Laverne told her later, but she had wondered if Laverne would've preferred someone like that for a roommate. And Carmine had certainly been tempted by Roxy's wiles.

Shirley blushed when she wondered if she had acted like Roxy on her wedding night. If she let herself go enough, Derek might not have realized she was a virgin. She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed later, when she'd be more reserved in bed.

She knew it might just be a wrong number, but she went to answer the phone anyway. "Hello?"

"Shirley? Oh, thank God you're home!"

"Edna?" It had only been a day and a half since she had spoken to her former landlady, but she felt like Mrs. Babish was calling from out of the past.

"Yes, Sweetie, are you all right?"

Even before Edna married Frank DeFazio, she was motherly with the girls who lived in her basement. Yet she was nothing like Shirley's mother or the other mothers they knew. She was sensible and worldly, although she could be sentimental and silly, too.

It wasn't until after Edna married Laverne's father that she started calling Laverne "Honey." Laverne was a grown woman, but she was starved for mothering, and even now, years later, she would melt and say, "She calls me Honey."

In the early days, Shirley was actually closer to Mrs. Babish than Laverne was, and it was Shirley who told Edna of Laverne's vat experience. Mrs. Babish had told Shirley to tell Laverne to tell Mr. DeFazio about her possible pregnancy, and Shirley was the middle-woman in getting Laverne to see Edna's doctor. Shirley realized with shock that Laverne was now trying to take on the motherly role, that Laverne had more experience with such matters than Shirley did. Still, it felt good to hear Edna call her Sweetie and be concerned about her.

"I'm a little dazed but I feel fine, Edna."

"Did you, did you go through with the wedding?"

"I did. I'll tell you about it later. I've got to get ready for work."

"Of course. I'd suggest we talk tonight, but Frank is coming back from his course this evening."

It felt like weeks, not days, since Mr. DeFazio left for a three-day weekend at Cowboy Bill's University. If he hadn't gone, then the girls wouldn't have worked at his restaurant and been invited to a Hollywood party, with all the what-ifs that followed from that. "He, um, he doesn't know about the party, does he?"

"No, no, I just talked to him about the restaurant when he called last night. But, Shirley, I'm going to have to tell him you're married if you're staying married."

"I haven't decided, but please don't say anything yet."

"You know I respect you girls' privacy," Edna said in a way that made Shirley wonder if Laverne had confessed about the marijuana brownies and the "snogging." Edna was probably relieved that she wouldn't have to hide an elopement by her stepdaughter, but Laverne had done enough at and after the party to make Edna's husband blow his stack if he knew. "But you're like a second daughter to Frank, and I don't want Lenny or Squiggy spilling the beans to him first."

Shirley hadn't considered that. Squiggy in particular seemed to take a proprietary interest in Shirley's marital status. She would have to convince the boys not to say a word about her and Derek, no matter how much Squiggy wanted to profit from her marrying a rock & roll star.

"Also," Edna continued, "I don't want you to think that I take marriage or divorce lightly, but you don't have to stay with someone just because you exchanged vows."

"I know that. I just need time to sort out how I feel about Derek, and I won't even get to talk to him in person until he's back from his tour in a couple months."

"I don't know if I can keep this from Frank that long, and I really doubt Lenny and Squiggy can."

"I promise I'll talk to Mr. DeFazio soon, but give me some time."

"I will, but, if it's not too much to ask, can you girls come to a welcome-back dinner at the restaurant tonight?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know."

"I understand, it's just that you know how Frank is. He acts like he doesn't want a fuss made over him but he'll want us to celebrate him 'going to college.' If you girls don't go, he'll feel like you don't care."

"Let me talk to Laverne."

"OK. It'll be at seven."

"Thanks, Edna. Talk to you soon."

Laverne had been equally reluctant to go, although she had less to hide, but she agreed that her pop would want the girls to congratulate the graduate. And Laverne grinned that evening when Shirley said she'd invite Carmine. It would be one more person who would have to keep secrets from Mr. DeFazio, but at least Carmine hadn't done anything to be embarrassed about. As Laverne pointed out, "He wasn't even at the party."

Shirley changed her clothes before going up to the top-floor unit. She decided on an outfit that was cute but not sexy, something appropriate both for trying to make peace with a man she had inadvertently broken up with a couple nights before through elopement and for going to a fast-food university graduation dinner for her best friend's father. She went with a not-quite-knee-length black & red checked minidress, white stockings, and black flats, even though Laverne called it her "checkerboard outfit" and Squiggy had once asked if she was hoping to get jumped, which made Lenny guffaw.

Carmine's door was ajar when Shirley came up the stairs, so she wouldn't have to knock. But she froze halfway up because she saw Carmine hugging another woman. It was a very close hug and the woman's curly blonde hair, curvy body, and height of at least six inches taller than Carmine, in heels anyway, told Shirley the identity of the woman even before Rhonda pulled away and said, "Shirley, it's not what it looks like!"

"You don't have to explain anything to her," Carmine said. "She's a married woman and I'm a free agent."

"That's right," Shirley said as calmly as she could. "I was going to ask Carmine if he was free tonight, but if he has other plans, I completely understand."

Carmine looked too surprised to reply and it was Rhonda who called after her, "Shirley! Wait!"

"That was quick," Laverne said when Shirley returned. She had changed into a gray dress she hadn't worn in at least four years, with the more modest hemline of the earlier '60s. It was as if she was trying to turn the clock back to a relatively more innocent time, or at least trying to look more innocent so her father wouldn't suspect anything about the Hollywood party.

Before Shirley could explain, or not explain but instead say, "Let's go," Rhonda barged in, through the front door rather than the back, like usual. (She preferred the Dutch door of the kitchen for her informal drop-ins, while the boys had carried west their Milwaukee habit of claiming the front door for their dramatic entrances.) "Shirley, when you caught us, I was just comforting Carmine over your marriage."

Laverne's expression clearly said _What did you catch them doing?_ , as always hopping on the express shuttle to Downtown Smutopolis.

Shirley knew she could explain to Laverne later, and right then it was more urgent to get rid of Rhonda. "I meant it when I said it doesn't matter, but I don't see what business it is of yours whether or not I got married."

Rhonda actually looked hurt. "Well, besides the fact that I would've thrown you a shower if I'd known ahead of time, you married a celebrity, Shirley. How can that not concern Rhonda?"

Shirley wondered if Rhonda, like Squiggy, hoped to somehow profit from Shirley's marriage to Derek. But what she said was "As for Carmine—"

"Rhonda would never fool around with Carmine."

"What, he's not good enough for you?" Laverne's tone was both teasing and belligerent.

"Oh, no, he's very talented and handsome, with that dark curly hair, but he is, or was, Shirley's boyfriend. And Rhonda would never turn this apartment building into _Peyton Place_. That's why I broke up with Sonny as soon as he started seeing Laverne."

Now Laverne's expression was stunned and hurt. "You dated Sonny?" she whispered.

"He didn't tell you?"

Laverne shook her head.

"Well, it was just a fling, purely physical."

Shirley could well believe that, since Rhonda Lee and Sonny St. Jacques were both gorgeous, in an exaggerated, not quite real, Hollywood sort of way. However, Shirley doubted that Laverne found that comforting.

Laverne said, "I'm going upstairs to invite Carmine to dinner even if I have to drag him by his dark curly hair."

After Laverne exited, Rhonda said, "Oh, I see, you're planning to fix Carmine up with Laverne, to make him feel better about you eloping with Derek DeWoods."

Shirley shook her head. "No, this isn't _Peyton Place_."

"Oh, did I ever tell you that I once auditioned for _Peyton Place_?"

"The movie or the TV show?"

"Oh, the TV show. Rhonda was too young for the movie."

Shirley decided not to point out that she was nineteen when the movie came out and Rhonda was around her age. Instead, she asked, "How did it go?"

"Well, Rhonda tried out for Mia Farrow's secret half-sister but didn't get the part."

"You look nothing like Mia Farrow!" Shirley couldn't help exclaiming, thinking of Mia's waif-like appearance.

"Rhonda is an actress," Rhonda said with great dignity.

"Of course, and I'm sure you could expose the slimy underbelly."

"Hello," Squiggy said as he entered the front door.

"Oh, hi, Squiggy. Could you or Lenny take my phone messages again? Rhonda has a date tonight."

Shirley could see Squiggy was torn between lust and pride, as if he'd do almost anything for Rhonda but not if it meant he'd be helping her while she was out with another man. And that was why Shirley invited Squiggy, and through him Lenny, to Mr. DeFazio's Welcome Home and Happy Graduation dinner.


	12. Celebrity News

As Laverne did the grocery shopping on Saturday, she felt like the whole week after her first Hollywood party was a struggle to try to get her bearings and some sense of normalness again. The Monday night dinner for her father was the best representative of this, although on the surface, which she hoped was all her pop saw, nothing had changed. The six other refugees from Milwaukee did their best to act normal so that Mr. DeFazio wouldn't suspect anything.

Squiggy had the least to reveal. Mr. DeFazio wouldn't have cared about Squiggy inhaling reefer gas or cuddling with Lenny, or any other behavior he may've indulged in at the party, because Squiggy was the weirdest person Frank DeFazio knew, and that included his own brother Funji. Squiggy, however, was the biggest blurter at the table, his mind as unfiltered as a marijuana cigarette. Unless Lenny had confessed about touching Laverne everywhere, Squiggy just knew that Lenny got his hands on her panties, which in itself would be enough for Pop to blow his stack. And Squiggy knew about Shirley's marriage, although not the details.

Shirley told Laverne she had bribed Squiggy with food, and certainly his mouth was full for most of the dinner, but Laverne had still watched him nervously.

Lenny, in contrast, had hardly opened his mouth. He ate like a bird, and not a vulture like Squiggy or his usual self, claiming he'd had a big lunch. He asked Mr. DeFazio a few short questions about CBU, but he was doing his best not to make eye contact with the father of the girl he'd fondled a couple nights earlier.

Meanwhile, Shirley and Carmine were pretending they were on speaking terms, although they weren't up to faking affection. They both knew about the pot and the elopement and the snogging, but Laverne had sheltered Shirley from the wildest parts of Laverne's Saturday night. Laverne wasn't sure how much Carmine knew or suspected about what had happened in the gazebo, but he had seen the panties exchange in her living room. At least he was unlikely to bring it up to Shirley right now.

Edna then knew everything that Laverne had told her, which would've been enough to make her a widow instead of a divorcée for a change. Laverne trusted Edna to keep the secrets and spare Pop a heart attack, but Laverne knew she was going to have to reveal some of Saturday night to her father before London's Bridges returned.

Laverne had been the one at the table who knew the most secrets, and the one who was most obligated to put on a happy face for her father. She'd done her best, even singing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" with great enthusiasm, but she came home more drained than she had Sunday night.

And now she was grateful for the boring task of buying groceries. She bought comfort food for herself, like milk and Pepsi and Scooter Pies. She got feminine hygiene products for Shirley, in case the monthly visitor wouldn't skip that month. (Laverne's Aunt Flo sometimes didn't stop by, thanks to the Pill.) Shirley still wasn't ready for Laverne to schedule an appointment with her OB/GYN, and Laverne was already tired of nagging her about it.

Maybe Edna could talk some sense into Shirley. The two women had finally found a chance to talk to each other that morning, as Edna wasn't going in to work until later, and Shirley had the day off. Shirley had gone over to have brunch at the trailer and presumably was telling Edna what she'd told Laverne Sunday night. Unless Shirley had left something out? Maybe she now remembered the most interesting part of her wedding night but didn't want to tell Laverne. Maybe she was too embarrassed, or she didn't want Laverne to feel jealous because of her lingering, although now taboo crush on Derek.

Perhaps that explained Shirley's hesitation to get a divorce. Maybe after waiting all those years to voe-dee-oh-doe, Shirley didn't want to give sex up, especially in wedlock. Or maybe she was still waiting to try it, with her accidental husband, and didn't want to decide about it or the rest of marriage until she had fully experienced them.

Laverne did her best not to speculate on what kind of lover Derek was. This was her best friend's husband, and if Carmine had been off limits, Derek surely was.

Laverne did not want Carmine on the rebound. He had too much history, not only with Shirley but with Laverne. It was bad enough finding out about Sonny's fling with Rhonda. She understood that it had started before Sonny even met her and that Sonny hadn't loved Rhonda like he loved Laverne. But it hurt that he had never told her. He'd had a connection to Rhonda, even if it was a shallow one, and it changed the way Laverne thought about both of them, separately and together. When Laverne would complain about how annoying and self-absorbed Rhonda was, Sonny would say, "Oh, she's not so bad once you get to know her."

Laverne was often jealous, especially when she was insecure. Sonny was so good-looking that Laverne was jealous even of Sonny's nonexistent attraction to the girl that they watched inexplicably choose Squiggy on _The Dating Game_. Yet it had never occurred to her to be jealous of Rhonda, maybe because Rhonda was so obvious and unreal. It made Laverne feel like she didn't really know Sonny, if he could get involved with someone like that, even casually.

"Don't run off with any Italian beauties!" Laverne had teased at the airport a couple weeks ago.

He'd kissed her and said, "You're the only Italian beauty I care about."

She was trying to be mature, to follow Shirley's advice, but it was hard to let him go to another country and let go of her jealousy. And she knew she was a hypocrite, considering what she'd done at and after the party, but that didn't mean she calmly accepted the idea of Sonny fooling around with someone while he was working as a stuntman on another continent. She couldn't even talk to him about those hypothetical Italian beauties, let alone Rhonda, until he came home. She could hardly call him long distance about any of this, including what she'd done with London and Lenny (she didn't think he'd mind about Malcolm), and it wasn't the sort of thing to put in a letter.

She'd avoided Rhonda as best she could that week. She didn't want to hear her blonde neighbor's side of things. Rhonda had done nothing wrong, and she hadn't meant to hurt Laverne, but it still felt wrong and it still hurt.

Laverne believed Carmine when he said that all he did was hug and confide in Rhonda, but she was still mad at him for using Rhonda to try to make Shirley jealous. Shirley had enough to worry about, and it wasn't like she'd married Derek as a gesture against Carmine. Shirley wasn't jealous but she seemed hurt that Carmine would play that kind of game at a time like this.

Not that Laverne was thrilled with Shirley's behavior. Besides the whole elopement and refusal to make any decision thing, Shirley should've just sat down with Carmine and talked this out, as soon as they all got back from the welcome-back dinner. Even if Shirley was hurt and/or mad, that was all the more reason to talk things out with Carmine. As at the dinner, Laverne felt like she was watching helplessly, as people did or didn't do what she thought they should.

Laverne finished throwing things into her cart and got in line for the check-out stand. As always, she glanced over at the magazines in the rack, although Shirley thought the tabloids were trashy. Well, Shirley wasn't here, and Laverne could do with some escapism.

She picked up _The Peeper_ and let out an incoherent scream at the cover story.

"I know," said the young checker sympathetically, as the old lady in front of Laverne left, casting a look of _These darn fool young people_ back at Laverne. "I cried when I saw that cover. He's so fab and sexy!"

Laverne threw her groceries down, with _The Peeper_ on top of her Scooter Pies, so that Derek DeWoods grinned cheekily up at her. The headline read _"SORRY, GIRLS, HE'S MARRIED! BUT WHO'S THE LUCKY GIRL?"_

"I haven't had a chance to read inside yet," the checker said, "but I will on my lunch hour. Who do think she is?"

"It could be anybody," Laverne mumbled.

"Yeah, I know me and my girlfriends would marry him in a heartbeat. Well, except for the ones who are London girls or Malcolm girls."

"Yeah, everyone likes someone different," Laverne murmured, thinking of how Derek had married a London girl, and Laverne herself was a Derek girl who had snogged Malcolm and jumped London. 

"It's probably some celebrity, like Patty Duke or Mia Farrow."

"Maybe, but wouldn't they drop hints about that on the cover?" Laverne said, doing her best to pretend to be another ignorant fan.

"Yeah, you're right. It's probably some home-town girl he's secretly been dating all this time, like Ringo and Maureen."

Laverne nodded and hoped that the story left things vague, although there were bound to be follow-up stories. After she paid for her groceries, she ran the seven blocks home as if paparazzi were going to pop out of the bushes and take her picture.

Shirley wasn't back yet. Laverne put the groceries away quickly and then curled up on the couch to read _The Peeper_. Even though everyone who lived in the building (except Sonny of course) knew about Shirley's marriage, Laverne really hoped that no one would drop by until she'd read and absorbed the article.

_SORRY, GIRLS, HE'S MARRIED! BUT WHO'S THE LUCKY GIRL?_

The Peeper _has recently learned that Derek DeWoods, guitarist for "British Invasion" sensation London's Bridges, tied the knot in Las Vegas, Nevada, on the eve of LB's first American tour. After a wedding night in a posh San Francisco hotel, "the Cheeky One" bade a sad farewell and sent flowers to his "Little Star Monkey" before sending her back to Los Angeles, where the happy couple met mere hours before._

[A close-up of a bouquet of flowers, much like the ones sitting in a vase in the girls' bedroom, with a card in the same handwriting as the one in Shirley's latest scrapbook.]

_But who is this mystery bride?_ The Peeper _has managed to get ahold of a copy of the marriage certificate (see p. 5), and the lucky lady appears to be one Shirley Wilhelmina Feeney. At time of going to press, we were unable to get a statement from Mr. DeWoods or the former Miss Feeney, but we were able to speak with one of Mrs. DeWoods's neighbors and close friends in Burbank, on the condition of anonymity. This neighbor said, "Shirley is crazy about Derek and I know he must be crazy about her, because she's so cute and sweet." We were unable to obtain a photograph of Mrs. DeWoods, but stay tuned for more information as this story develops._

Laverne snorted at this conclusion, which made it sound like breaking news from the Vietnam War. Then she sighed. This may not have been an earth-shattering story, but it definitely affected Laverne and her best friend, turning their world upside down.

She was going to assume that the anonymous neighbor lived in the building, although she supposed it could've been anyone on their block or street. She could obviously rule out herself and Shirley, which left five other people. Sonny was as unlikely a source as Laverne, more so, since he was halfway around the world and didn't even know about the party. Carmine was too hurt by the elopement and Shirley's hesitation about giving up Derek to say anything remotely like that giddy statement to the press.

That left Lenny, Squiggy, and Rhonda. Considering Lenny was dealing with his own fallout from the party, Laverne couldn't imagine him spilling his guts to the gutter press. He was romantic enough to view the elopement that way though, especially with his tendency to see the best in people. Still, she couldn't imagine the circumstances where he'd talk about the party to a gossip reporter, unless he was too trusting and didn't realize it was a reporter.

Squiggy, on the other hand, with his ambition to manage Shirley and/or Derek, would've been thrilled at the opportunity to promote the story of a whirlwind elopement. He would be thinking about what would be best for the Squignowski Talent Agency, and he wouldn't care about Shirley's feelings or privacy. Laverne wouldn't put it past him to have leaked the story to the press, rather than wait to be approached by an intrepid reporter. After all, Squiggy remembered about Shirley running off to Vegas to get married at a point Laverne could only vaguely recall being in a gazebo.

Of course, Rhonda shouldn't be discounted as a suspect. Laverne didn't think it was just her jealousy about the fling that made her suspect their female neighbor. Shirley had told Laverne what Rhonda said about how Shirley marrying a celebrity concerned Rhonda, as if anything to do with celebrities was Rhonda's property. And Rhonda would've been happy to be quoted, even anonymously, in the press. Yeah, thinking it over, that sounded like Rhonda's phrasing more than a man's, especially the "so cute and sweet" part.

"Hi-ho, it's Rhonda."

Laverne looked over at the Dutch door. Not only had Laverne been avoiding Rhonda, but Rhonda had been avoiding Laverne, and Shirley. Laverne still didn't want to talk to Rhonda, not that she usually did, but she knew she had to so she could solve this mystery.

She uncurled, waved and said, "Hello, Rhonda."

"Hi, Laverne. Is Shirley home?"

"Uh, no, not right now."

Rhonda came over to stand next to the couch and said, "Well, I really wanted to talk to you first. I am so sorry!"

Laverne decided to play dumb. She shrugged and said, "Well, like you said, it was before Sonny was with me."

"Oh, right, that. Rhonda is sorry about that, but I think it was up to Sonny to tell you, not Rhonda's responsibility."

She had a point but one that Laverne didn't want to dwell on just then. "So what were you apologizing for?"

Rhonda looked down, picked up _The Peeper_ , and exclaimed, "This!"

Laverne realized that she wasn't much of a detective if she hadn't thought to hide the evidence before she could interrogate the suspect. Then again, the suspect had just confessed, so maybe it didn't matter. Still, Laverne put on her best shocked expression as she gasped, "You're the anonymous neighbor?"

"You didn't know?"

"I thought it might be Squiggy," Laverne said, which wasn't a lie.

"Squiggy isn't dating Ted Tidmore."

"Who?"

"Ted Tidmore, the publisher of _The Peeper_."

"And Rhonda is dating him?"

"That's who Rhonda had a date with Monday night. He was so nice and sympathetic when I told him about poor Carmine and everything."

"Everything?" Laverne really hoped Lenny hadn't confided in Carmine about the gazebo, and that Carmine hadn't spilled that to Rhonda, who might've told Tidmore.

"Yes, but Teddy promised he wouldn't say a word about the marijuana."

"Yeah, he didn't." Laverne had to admit that, given _The Peeper's_ reputation for scandalous stories about celebrities, and the wild behavior that she in particular had participated in, the cover story was mild, almost cute, although not as squeaky clean as _Tiger Beat_ would probably portray the elopement once they got ahold of the story.

"It wasn't until this morning, when I got my subscription copy in the mail, that it occurred to me that Shirley probably wouldn't like the publicity as much as Rhonda would if it had happened to Rhonda. After all, Rhonda is an actress and model, while Shirley is a gift-wrapper."

"Yeah, Shirley values her privacy more than you do," Laverne said, looking at Rhonda's pink, fluffy bathrobe which didn't seem to be covering anything but Rhonda's ample skin.

"Is she really mad?"

"I don't think she's seen it yet."

"Well, please give her Rhonda's apologies," Rhonda said, setting the magazine back down on the couch.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Toodles!" Rhonda said and glided out.

"Toodles," Laverne muttered, and punched the grinning paper face of Derek DeWoods. As annoyed as she was with Rhonda, who didn't seem to realize how she had changed Shirley's life, Laverne was angry with Derek for eloping with Shirley in the first place.

Laverne realized the irony that she and Shirley had been drawn to Derek and London, and OK, Malcolm, because the lads were celebrities, but the girls had been too stoned to realize that marrying into London's Bridges would bring them notoriety that neither of them was ready for. True, Laverne hadn't actually married a rock & roll star, but she almost had, and she knew that she would be dragged into this story before long.


	13. Strange New World

Carmine spent Saturday morning driving up and down the California coast. Whenever he'd reach a mostly deserted beach, he'd park Sonny's car and walk along the sand. He'd gaze out at the blue Pacific and wonder how a nice Italian boy from Milwaukee had landed in such an unreal world. And he'd wonder if it was time to go home.

There wasn't anything keeping him in California. His job was a joke, his love life DOA. He would miss his friends, even Lenny and Squiggy, but he had other friends, although not as close, back in Wisconsin. Or maybe he would go to New York, and hope to have better luck on Broadway than he was having in Hollywood. But, although he knew he needed to move on and try to forget Shirley, he also knew it would take more than geographical distance to remove her from his life, or his heart.

He had barely talked to her since she returned as another man's bride. A little Monday morning before he ran away, and a little Monday evening before she walked away. As little as possible at Monday's dinner for Mr. DeFazio. And not at all since.

He hadn't talked to Laverne either, or Lenny and Squiggy for that matter. He had talked to Rhonda when she dropped the rent off, early, and she said she hoped she hadn't caused any trouble for him and Shirley. He told her he and Shirley already had trouble, and he thanked her for the rent.

He was managing the building in Sonny's absence, which gave him fresh sympathy for Mrs. Babish. He hadn't talked to her much that week either, but she did of course tell him to talk things out with Shirley, although at that point she hadn't had a chance to talk to Shirley much about all this herself.

Maybe he should talk with Shirley before he left, although he doubted it would change anything.

And if he was going to go, he should probably hang on until Sonny's return, or at least find another temporary building manager.

Carmine eventually got hungry and decided to head home to Burbank. Maybe he'd make a quick lunch and then go downstairs and try to talk to Shirley. He understood now that it wasn't a simple matter of rescuing her or setting her straight. But he'd do his best to listen and try to understand. He loved her and he owed her that.

When he returned to his apartment, he found a folded note under the door. He picked it up and instantly recognized the neat, feminine hand. She'd written his name and he remembered notes she passed to him in high school, delicately flirty notes.

He doubted this note would be flirty. But he was grateful to be hearing from her at all. He shut the door, sat on his couch, which was really Sonny's couch, and unfolded the note.

_Dear Carmine,_

_Thank you for not throwing this letter away, although maybe you will by the end. And you are dear to me and I do love you, probably always will love you. But I meant it when I said my situation is complicated._

_You know, in fact you knew before I did, that I ate marijuana brownies before accepting two marriage proposals in one night. I was a victim, but that doesn't mean I'm not responsible for some of what happened that night. And I am responsible for how I deal with any aftermath of that night._

_I don't know my husband, not really. I don't mean this in the sense that Mrs. Babish, before she was Mrs. Babish, didn't know that a man she'd dated for awhile and was about to marry would turn out to be a gambler or an alcoholic or a cheater or a bad father. She could later ask herself what clues she'd missed, even if in one case, it was just incompatibility._

_I've spent only a few hours with my husband, over half of that asleep. Even when I was awake, I couldn't be said to be fully conscious, since I was under the influence of a drug I didn't know of or understand. It was nothing like that _Reefer Zombies_ movie we watched in high school. I didn't rob a candy store or even dance on a table in a dive bar. I just married a man that I'd met a few hours earlier, although I'd read about him in fan magazines and other publicity for weeks._

_And, yes, he wasn't even my favorite member of that band. Until Saturday night, I just thought of him as the best friend of London of London's Bridges. He was almost a blank slate to me. I knew he was British, cheeky, cute, talented, and famous. I could name you three dozen other rock & roll stars that fit that description._

_What do I know about him now? I know that he's witty and sweet and considerate. He swept me off my feet to Vegas and then to San Francisco. Yes, he spent money on me, but he also listened to my stories and asked for more. I like what I know of him as a person, but, yes, I haven't really gotten to know him as more than an acquaintance._

_He told me he loved me and I believed him, because why else would a famous rock & roll star elope with a gift-wrapper? He knows I have no money and he's certainly no gold-digger._

_I know what you're going to say. He might've married me for sex. But I'm not naive, and I know that he probably has groupies throwing themselves at him, around the world. He doesn't need me for sex, and you know that I'm "not that kind of girl." And, to be blunt, considering my condition last night, he might've been able to seduce me without promises of marriage._

_As it is, well, I'm not entirely sure that he made love to me Saturday night. I have no memory of what we did in bed in the hotel in San Francisco, other than nude kissing._

_Laverne thinks that maybe nothing else happened, while Edna worries that Derek took advantage of me when I was too stoned to realize what was happening._

_I of course want to talk to Derek about this, but for now I choose to believe that nothing happened that night that I didn't on some level want to happen._

_In a way, maybe I don't know myself, not really. I'm not saying that the Shirley Feeney who ate marijuana brownies is a truer self than the everyday Shirley Feeney. But I am saying that she's a part of me. And I need to understand that side of myself before I can decide whether or not to remain Mrs. Derek DeWoods._

_I don't expect you to like my decisions about this marriage, including what I've decided not to decide about yet. But, if it's not too much to ask, I still want you to be my friend, as Laverne is, even when we disagree. I need my good friends from the old neighborhood at a time like this, when I'm in a strange new world._

_Your friend,_  
_Shirley_  


Carmine sighed as he folded up the letter. Shirley was naive and trusting, yet wary and closed. She was Laverne's mirror image, the girl who knew the seven signs (or was it ten? five?) of a married man, while giving money to con artists, as her roommate would flirt first and ask questions later, yet see through the lies of, for instance, Shirley's closest family members.

Carmine loved both girls but it was the smaller, more feminine girl that most brought out his protective and other instincts.

He wasn't sure how to just be friends with Shirley. Even when he was seeing Lucille, he was still drawn to Shirley. Mrs. Lockwash was a tall, sexy blonde, like Rhonda now that he thought about it, but Shirley was sexy in a little-woman way, the sexiness he wanted in a wife. Now that she was someone else's wife, what was he supposed to do with his attraction to her?

And it wasn't as if she said she was thoroughly committed to Derek. She wanted to live in limbo for now, and she expected everyone who cared about her to live there with her. Well, that was one thing for Laverne and Edna, who might get exasperated with her, but Carmine's frustration was of a completely different kind. It was one thing to take cold showers for a girl who was saving herself for a husband who probably wouldn't be him. It was quite another to take them for a woman who may or may not have been a true wife.

But he could try to be her friend, or at least not pretend he was ignoring her when she was right downstairs. After all, she'd stayed his friend even when Mrs. Lockwash was supposed to sweep him off to Europe. (They never got further than Chicago.)

He looked down and noticed that there was a postscript. He unfolded the letter.

_P.S. I wrote this letter at Edna's, with her pen and paper, although she didn't read it. I planned to show it to Laverne though, not to get her "approval" but just so she would better understand what I'm going through. But when I got home, Laverne showed me an article in _The Peeper_ about my marriage to Derek. I don't know how many people read and believe that sleazy tabloid, but word is starting to get out about what should be a private matter. ___

____

____

_Oh, Carmine, I need you! Please don't hate me!_

He threw down the letter, but not in anger. He ran downstairs and swept his Angel Face into his arms, murmuring, "Baby, it's going to be OK!", even though he was sure it wasn't.


	14. Mother Knows Least

As they stood outside their front door and Shirley looked for her keys Monday evening, Laverne said, "Thanks for letting me make the appointment for you, Shirl."

"Thank you for making it," Shirley said, as she took the keys out of her purse.

"Hey, I gotta admit I'm curious about whether you're still a virgin."

"Well, if I'm not," Shirley said, as she put the key in the lock, "it's too soon to know if I'm going to be a— Mother!"

The door had swung open to reveal Lily "Barb" Feeney sitting on the nearest end of the couch.

"Mrs. Feeney!" Laverne gasped, then asked, "How did you get in?"

Shirley winced at Laverne's tactlessness, although she wondered that, too.

"The big blonde girl who refers to herself in the third person let me in."

Shirley could see Laverne adding that to her mental list of reasons to dislike Rhonda. But unlike crying on the shoulder of a tabloid publisher about problems which weren't even her own— prompting Laverne to observe, "I could stand her more if she were too self-absorbed to pay any attention to us"— Shirley didn't blame Rhonda for this. Rhonda was probably just trying to be helpful, and of course anyone would assume Shirley would be thrilled to see her mother.

Shirley had always had a difficult relationship with her mother. They should've been much closer than they were. Shirley was the baby of the family and the only girl. Instead, Shirley's mother criticized her, usually out of the hearing of others.

Mrs. Feeney wasn't as bad as when Shirley was growing up. About seven years ago, Laverne defended Shirley, which helped Shirley stand up for herself. Still, there were times when Mrs. Feeney slipped into her old habits. The worst part was that Shirley had internalized much of her mother's values. Not that it was wrong to be ambitious and want more out of life, but it made it hard for Shirley ever to be contented with what she had.

Her mother had visited Milwaukee only a handful of times between her own move to California and Shirley's. Shirley had carefully kept her from visiting the Burbank apartment in the months since moving in, by visiting her mother in Pasadena often enough. She knew Laverne had no interest in seeing the nagging older woman, even if Laverne wasn't her target.

"How nice of you to drop by," Shirley said after an awkward pause.

"Well, of course I'm going to go see my only daughter when she elopes with a rock & roll star."  


Shirley and Laverne looked at each other, and her roommate's facial expression could best be described as _Oh, $#!+!_ Not in a guilty sort of way, and Shirley knew she could trust Laverne like a second self in this matter. Laverne's face read more like she couldn't believe how the fallout from the Hollywood party went on and on without end.

"Did our neighbor tell you?" Shirley asked, meaning Rhonda, although she could see Lenny or more likely Squiggy telling Mrs. Feeney for reasons of his own. As for Rhonda, she might've done it to make amends.

"Who, Wanda? No, I just met her ten minutes ago. I read about it in _The Peeper_."

"You read _The Peeper_?" Laverne sounded both shocked and intrigued.

"Not usually, but one of my friends showed me the most recent issue."

Shirley again looked at Laverne, who finally shut the front door. Then both girls sat down, Shirley on the other end of the couch from her mother, Laverne in the chair nearest the door, as if planning a quick escape.

"Mama, I understand if you're upset," Shirley began, knowing there was no way her mother was going to offer hearty congratulations.

"Upset? Why should I be upset? Just because my only daughter runs off with a man she just met?"

"Hey, at least she's married," Laverne cracked.

Mrs. Feeney took her seriously. "But to what kind of man, Laverne?"

"English?" Laverne offered, as presumably Derek's least objectionable quality, although Shirley winced again, knowing her mother's odd prejudices.

"Yes, and we all know how peculiar the English are. And musicians are even stranger."

"Hey, come on, Barb, Shirley has known a lot stranger men than Derek DeWoods."

Squiggy couldn't resist a cue like that, but Shirley still winced at his hello. This time he was dressed in what appeared to be a turn-of-the-century, knee-length, striped bathing costume. Lenny's swimsuit was also circa 1900 and striped, but it included a skirt, bloomers, and a head-scarf. Lenny was holding a surfboard, which he was trying to figure out how to get through the door.

"I'm glad you're home, Shirl," Squiggy said, making Shirley wonder if the boys ever came over in weird get-ups only to find an empty apartment. "I've got a brilliantined idea for a sequel to _Falling Down_."

"Not now, Boys, we've got company."

"I don't mind, the more people I can run this up the flagpole with, the merrier."

Lenny gave up and tossed the surfboard into the hallway, then came in and said, "Didn't you used to be Shirley's mother?"

"You still have Squiggly and Wiggly as neighbors, Dimples?"

"Dimples." Lenny chuckled at what was now hardly Shirley's most embarrassing nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, the gang's all here," Squiggy said. "Mr. and Mrs. DeFabish run Cowboy Bob's, and the Big Raccoon lives upstairs."

Mrs. Feeney looked understandably puzzled, but Laverne got out of her chair and came over to look at Lenny's outfit. "That's some swimsuit, Len."

Lenny blushed and mumbled, "I had to talk him out of the bikini."

"I bet I could've talked you out of this suit."

Laverne was such an unmitigated flirt that she would banter even with Lenny, although she must've known the effect she had on that poor infatuated boy. It was for Leonard's sake as much as her mother's that Shirley asked, "Could you boys come back tomorrow?"

"OK," Squiggy said reluctantly, "but a cinemagic perspiration like this won't keep forever and you have an instride tack as Mrs. Eric DeWords."

"I am well aware of that grave responsibility," Shirley said, trying to match Squiggy's sense of importance although not his mangling of the English language.

"As indeed you would be. Come, Lenny, I need you to finish writing the title tune."

"Bye, Laverne. Shirley, Mrs. Feeney."

The boys left, Laverne closing the door behind them. Laverne shook her head and looked torn between amusement and concern, especially when it sounded like Lenny tripped on the surfboard.

"As I was saying," Shirley's mother said, as if this had been an ordinary interruption, "I don't understand why you would rush into a marriage like this to a man like that."

Shirley wasn't sure how to justify it. It would be different if she loved or even knew her husband. Then, especially with Laverne backing her up, Shirley could stand up for herself and Derek. But how could she justify a marriage she might end up dissolving? She knew mentioning marijuana would not help.

Laverne sat back down and said, "It's like this, Barb. Shirley and Derek fell in love at first sight. He wanted to sweep her away, but the band was about to go on tour. She agreed to an elopement, even though it was impetuous, but she insisted he honor his commitment to London's Bridges. He took her to a charming little chapel in Las Vegas, and she wished you, me, and the rest of her friends and family could be there. Then they had a wedding night in a luxurious San Francisco hotel. The next morning, he invited her to go on the tour, but she insisted she would be too much of a distraction. Also, her own sense of duty meant she had to go into work on Monday, last Monday I mean. And now she's waiting for Derek to come back to town, so they can build a life together."

Shirley stared at Laverne, impressed that her best friend had reeled all that off as if she wasn't improvising, and yet in an easy, conversational tone. The mix of lies, truths, and in between somehow made it sound more plausible than the messy reality.

Shirley had to quickly wipe off the expression of surprise when her mother turned from Laverne to her and said, "That's very romantic. But practical."

Shirley knew that her mother didn't believe in romance. Lily Feeney often said that romance got her a husband who only came home from sea long enough to get her pregnant five times in six years. And when he was home, he drank.

Shirley felt sorry for her mother and always promised herself that she'd be nothing like her. Yet here she was, less than ten days into her own marriage and open to the possibility of divorce. At least there was no home to break, no children to scar.

Unless Shirley did in fact get pregnant on her wedding night. She laughed at what her mother would think if she knew the real truth about what happened, or didn't happen, on Shirley's wedding night. 

Her mother blinked. "Did I say something funny?"

"No," Shirley quickly improvised, "I was just going to offer you some tea, but I thought you might say it's because I married a Brit."

Mrs. Feeney chuckled and then she and Laverne joked about all the English affectations Shirley was now going to take on. Shirley knew that nothing had been settled, but she'd made it through this step.


	15. Iron Bars Will Bend and Break

Tuesday evening, the boys came back, in their ordinary clothes, to pitch Squiggy's idea for the next London's Bridges movie, working title _Build It Up with Iron Bars._

"Is this a prison movie?" Shirley asked.

"Nah, that's how the nursing rhyme goes. We looked it up in the liberry. Hit it, Len."

Lenny strummed his guitar, which he'd brought over instead of the surfboard, and he sang the first two verses of "London Bridge Is Falling Down." Laverne hadn't even known there was more than one verse. Lenny sang it as a lullaby, his voice deep but gentle, like he was serenading a baby. Laverne could imagine him as a good father, if he ever met Miss Right.

The movie was actually a time-travel beach flick. Even if the boys hadn't wanted to put a British rock band into it, it was a strange concept, although Squiggy insisted that it was "everything the youths of today want to see."

Shirley told him that she would pass the idea on to Derek when she next talked to him. Her husband hadn't yet contacted her from the road, and she had no way to reach him. Laverne thought he would at least say something to the press after _The Peeper_ article, but the band might not have been aware of all the American tabloids, and the story hadn't yet broken through to more respectable outlets.

Wednesday evening, Shirley went upstairs to work on a letter to Derek, even though she wasn't sure how to get it to him. She told Laverne that it would help to get her thoughts down, even if no one else saw it.

Edna had had Shirley write a letter to Carmine Saturday morning, although obviously it was much easier to deliver. Whatever it said must've worked, because Carmine came downstairs, gave Shirley a big hug, and swore to protect his Angel Face against all enemies foreign and domestic. Laverne wished she had an ex-boyfriend who was that loyal.

The phone rang, and for a moment Laverne imagined some ex calling out of concern. Most likely Sal Molina, who had proposed to her about seven years ago and was a great guy and a good man. Shirley had talked Laverne out of it because Laverne couldn't say she was in love with Sal. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, except he didn't give her goosebumps.

Laverne wondered if it might be one of the band members. She had no idea what she'd say to any of them. It would be awkward with Malcolm and possibly humiliating with London. Even with Derek, she didn't want to hear him apologize for dumping her for Shirley.

She knew she'd better answer the phone, because she didn't want London blurting something out about their encounter and shocking Shirley.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Laverne. I just wanted to check in with you girls."

Laverne had called her stepmother Monday night after Mrs. Feeney left. Laverne would always mourn her own mother, but she was reminded again how lucky she was to have Edna in her life, in her family.

"Nothing new in the past couple days. But no news is good news, right?"

"Sometimes. I am glad you made the doctor's appointment."

"I'm glad Shirley let me finally make it. Thank you for talking to her Saturday morning."

"You're welcome. I admit to being desperate to find out the truth myself. And the doctor could still give a pregnancy test, even if the results aren't one hundred percent accurate."

"Um, Edna, is my Pop around?"

"No, the restaurant is empty at the moment, so he went to the men's room and Rosita and Sabrina went to take their break before the dinner rush."

Sabrina was the new waitress, a ponytailed brunette who hardly talked, unlike Rosita, who after all planned to be a lawyer. And it was only four o'clock because Bardwell's had closed early for "tax purposes," according to Mr. Hildebrand. They would also be closed all of the following Friday, which was when Laverne had scheduled Shirley's appointment for. Laverne would of course be in the waiting room for support, and this way the whole gift-wrapping department wouldn't have to take sick leave.

"Well, we should cut this short in case someone comes in. I'll let you know if I have anything new to report."

"OK, take care, Honey."

"You, too, Mom."

"Was that Edna?" Shirley asked from the head of the stairs.

Laverne nodded as she set the phone back in the cradle. "Just checking in. How's your letter going?"

Shirley sighed and came down the stairs. "It's hard to write to a stranger."

"Maybe you could pretend he's a foreign pen pal."

Shirley laughed but shook her head.

Laverne went in the kitchen to pour some milk and Pepsi. So Shirley was the one to answer the phone when it rang again. Laverne hoped for her sake it was Derek.

Well, Shirley didn't actually answer the telephone. She picked up the receiver and put one end to her ear but she didn't speak into the other end. She listened in silence, an unreadable expression on her face. Was it an obscene phone caller? No, Shirley would've hung up immediately. And she would've done the same if a nosy reporter had discovered their number. As Laverne set down her glass, she decided it couldn't be her father, because she'd be able to hear the yelling from another room.

Before Laverne could speculate further, Shirley said, "I think you want to speak with Laverne," and held out the receiver.

Laverne really hoped it wasn't London. This would not be how she'd want Shirley to find out, if Shirley had to find out.

Her roommate mouthed, "We need to talk," as Laverne took the phone. Laverne nodded, although she didn't yet know what they needed to talk about.

"Hello?"

"Laverne, we need to talk."

"Lenny?"

"Yeah, and in privacy."

She glanced at Shirley, who had her arms crossed. "Um, give me an hour."

"All right, my place in an hour. Squiggy's out on a date."

That didn't seem any guarantee of privacy, particularly if Squiggy brought his date home, but Laverne just said, "See you then."

"Goodbye, Laverne."

After she hung up, she and Shirley took the same seats they'd taken Monday evening, minus Mrs. Feeney. Laverne would've happily traded that evening's awkwardness for this. Especially when Shirley asked, "Why does Lenny think you might be pregnant?"

Laverne now wished she had talked things out with Lenny first, or at least knew what he'd said to Shirley. "I don't know," she said slowly and honestly.

"And why does he think you might've gotten pregnant at the party?"

Laverne could've said, "Who knows? Lenny is crazy." Instead, she whispered, "Maybe because I had sex at the party."

"With Malcolm?"

"No, we just kissed," Laverne said at a normal volume, "and after the party, like I told you."

"You didn't tell me everything though, did you?"

"I'm sorry, Shirl."

"Sorry for not telling me or sorry for doing something you couldn't tell me about?"

"Both?"

"Laverne, I know you were stoned, but don't you have any self-control?"

"Oh, I guess I should've just eloped instead." Shirley flinched and Laverne felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Shirl," she said again.

"I'm sorry, too, Laverne. This is why you didn't tell me, isn't it? Because I'm so judgmental."

"No, it's more like you're so innocent and I don't want to shock you."

"Hey, I'm a married lady now."

"Yeah, but you're still a lady." She silently added, "And maybe still a virgin."

"Please tell me, Laverne."

Laverne sighed. "Malcolm told me you eloped, so I asked where London was." She decided not to share Malcolm's geography joke, although Shirley would've got it.

"You had sex with London?" Shirley whispered.

"Well, yeah. But it wasn't out of revenge or on the rebound. It was just part of the crazy night." Maybe Laverne could tell this story and leave the gazebo out of it.

To her surprise, Shirley asked, "How was it?"

"It was OK."

"You don't have to protect me, Laverne. My crush on London has faded."

"Good, since he's your husband's 'best mate.' " Laverne was not about to mention her lingering crush on her best friend's husband.

Shirley laughed and then blushed. "Did the marijuana enhance the experience?"

Laverne stopped herself from saying, "Not like with Lenny." She coughed. "Not really. It just took my inhibitions away. I've had better."

Shirley frowned. "I always thought London would be gentle but passionate."

"He probably would've been with you, if you'd married him. Especially since he was in love with you."

"Laverne," Shirley asked quietly, "is sex better when you love each other?"

"Well, yeah. Not that I've been with that many guys. Depending on what counts, I'm still in the single digits." She blushed as she wondered if Lenny's digits counted.

"I don't love Derek, not yet."

"You might someday, when you get to know him. Or maybe you won't. Or maybe you'll fall in love with him because of sex."

Shirley blushed and giggled, but dared ask, "Has that ever happened to you?"

"Well, not yet, but I'm still young."

Shirley giggled again, although she scolded, "Oh, Laverne!"

Laverne chuckled, although she was trying not to think of how special Randy made her first time, and how they were already in love before, but even more afterwards.

Then Shirley sobered and said, "I have one more personal question to ask you."

Laverne sighed but said, "Go ahead."

"What did Lenny mean when he said none of this would've happened if he hadn't passed out?"

Laverne knew she could've stuck to her story that she and Lenny had just talked in the gazebo. But Shirley had taken the part about London pretty well, even though Laverne had left out the setting and the fact that she'd taken London by surprise, in more than one sense of taking. She coughed again and said, "We didn't just talk."

"Laverne, did you...?" Shirley whispered.

"He touched me everywhere. Hands only."

She braced herself for Shirley's shock and/or disgust, but Shirley surprised her by teasing, "And was that experience good?"

Laverne blushed, "Yeah, but I was stoned out of my gourd."

"Uh huh."

"Uh, Shirl, this is Lenny Kosnowski we're talking about, remember? Our weird, sometimes disgusting neighbor."

"I know that. But apparently you forgot that the night of the party."

Laverne felt herself blushing deeper. "I like Lenny," she said slowly. "I mean, I love him, as a friend. But he's not, I mean— What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?"

"Yeah, why are you trying to talk me into dating Lenny?"

Shirley laughed. "Laverne, you know me. I'm the last person who would suggest such a thing. But I do think you need to figure out how you feel about Lenny before you break that poor boy's heart." The "again" was implied.

Laverne nodded. "I'm going over to his place this evening to talk things out."

"Alone?"

"Well, yeah, Squiggy's out on a date."

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Is it him you don't trust or me?"

"I think you need to ask yourself that question." Shirley stood up and stretched. "Meanwhile, I have a letter to write."

"Uh, you're not going to tell Derek about me and London, are you?"

"They're best mates. London probably told him a week and a half ago."

Laverne frowned, at both the idea that her crush knew what a floozy she was and the suggestion that Laverne wasn't as good a friend to Shirley. But it was different for guys, wasn't it? They loved to talk about, no, boast about sex they'd had, or claimed to have.

Look at Lenny and Squiggy, who made sure to tell the girls about getting lucky their first night in California. Lenny probably told Squiggy about getting his hands on Laverne, maybe even made it sound like they went all the way. Not at first, since Lenny had been chivalrous enough to make up a story about a one-man panty raid. But he must've cracked under the pressure by now, if Laverne had. The strange thing was, if Squiggy knew, he was keeping surprisingly silent about it.

Laverne glanced at the clock, but it was still half an hour until her appointment across the hall. She got up and drank her milk & Pepsi before the milk soured and the Pepsi went flat.


	16. Second Opinion

After Squiggy left for his date, Lenny played back the tape he'd recorded of "Theme from 'Iron Bars.' " But mostly he was playing back in his mind the conversation he had with Squiggy the night before, after they came back from pitching the London's Bridges idea to the girls.

"Well, if Shirley won't talk to Eric DeWords about our movie, I'll have Laberne talk to Loudon."

"You mean London? What good would that do?"

"Well, he did say she was a great shag."

"Uh, what's a shag?" Lenny had asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

"I didn't ask, but I figured it was English for lay, since you lay carpets. Well, not you personally."

"Yeah. Um, how did the subject come up?"

"Well, do you remember going back to the gabezo for your scarf?"

Lenny remembered it then, and he remembered finding Laverne's underwear, which must've fallen out of the back pocket of his jeans, although he was too dazed by reefer gas and an orgasm-induced nap to know that at the time. He held the black Saturday panties to his face and inhaled a scent more intoxicating and more taboo than marijuana. He exhaled the two most beautiful syllables in the English language, "La. Verne." Then he tucked the panties into the back pocket of his jeans and wrapped the scarf around his neck to drive away the chills of a Hollywood night.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I was waiting by the truck, hoping you was sober enough to drive, when London comes over and starts talking to me, asking how well I know Laberne. So I told him we grew up with the girls and used to play doctor with 'em."

Lenny nodded. "Shirley was the doctor, Laverne was the nurse, I was the patient, and you was the anestheologian." Squiggy would hit him in the head with a rock or other blunt object, just hard enough to knock him out (and it wasn't like eight-year-old Squiggy was that strong). Lenny would wake up to find that the girls had bandaged him from head to foot. Squiggy would look up from his comic book and say, "The patient has regrained consciences," and the girls would stop jumping rope or playing Potsie (the hopscotch game, not the kid from the nice side of Milwaukee, who would've been half their age then). The three of them would set Lenny free and he'd feel so lucky to have friends.

"Yeah. And then he asked me how to contact her. I naturally presumed he saw her dancing at the party and wanted to hire her, since she's a pretty good dancer."

"She's an amazing dancer!" Lenny said reverently, thinking of how she moved those long legs and curvy hips, sexy but classy, no matter what the style.

"Mebbe so, mebbe so, but when I told him she was under the management of the Squignowski Talent Agency, he said his interest was unprofessional. And then he called her a great shag."

"What'd you say to that?"

"I said, 'That's the word on the street.' "

"Squiggy!" Lenny groaned.

"What was I supposed to do? Pretend I've had her?"

Lenny came dangerously close to revealing what had happened in the gazebo before Squiggy showed up. When they got back from picking Shirley up from the train station, Squiggy had again asked what really happened instead of "that cock-ike-mamie panty raid story."

So Lenny panicked and said that Laverne was so stoned that she agreed to take off her panties and show him what she looked like down there, "but she still wouldn't let me touch her." He'd felt a weird mix of a chivalrous need to protect what was left of her reputation and a boyish insecurity that made him want to go into their usual locker room talk about girls. And all that had to be balanced with what was plausible, given what Squiggy knew about his confusing history with Laverne.

He spent most of today dwelling on the other part of his conversation with Squiggy. Unless his best friend was wrong, and Squiggy was the expert in such matters, Laverne had had sex with London, the rock & roll star. She'd done it at the party at some point. Probably after Lenny passed out, since she was engaged to Derek when she entered the gazebo. Lenny made her come, but he wasn't rich, famous, or handsome.

And Squiggy had known about Laverne and London since the night it happened. Maybe he hadn't remembered right away, but it must've come back to him within 24 hours, just like Lenny's memory had, and Laverne's.

She had lied to him. Not like she lied four years ago, when she said that if he found a girl he had stuff in common with, that would be the girl for him. She hadn't meant to lie then, and she had meant well. But she'd been with another guy that night, and not told him. Maybe two guys, if she'd lied to him about how much she did with Malcolm Bridges.

He knew it wasn't like she'd cheated on him. He wasn't her boyfriend. Sonny was. (And Lenny had to wonder what Laverne had told Sonny about that night.)

Maybe Laverne was trying to spare Lenny's feelings, so he wouldn't feel hurt or rejected. Or maybe London didn't mean anything to her. 

He needed someone to talk to about Laverne. Not Squiggy, and not Carmine. Squiggy would be mad that Lenny hadn't been honest about touching Laverne from the beginning, since that was worse than Squiggy not mentioning that Laverne had sex with London. And Carmine had his own problems, still being in love with Shirley but trying to stay friends with her.

The only other guy he knew well in California was Mr. DeFazio, who had maybe mellowed since marrying Mrs. Babish but was still likely to yell and hit if Lenny told him about touching Laverne. Laverne's father also would be furious about her voe-dee-oh-doe with London, and Lenny couldn't really leave that part of the story out now that he knew about it.

Maybe he should talk to a woman about Laverne. He immediately ruled out Rhonda, since she was both self-centered and gossipy. (She once told them far more than he needed to know about the marriage of the Fergusons across the street, while Squiggy hung on her every word, or at least couldn't stop watching her mouth.) Besides, she didn't know the whole backstory to Lenny and Laverne.

Shirley obviously was not an option. She'd never approved of Lenny's crush on Laverne, even when they were kids. Not to mention that she would be shocked that Laverne had sex with a man she hardly knew, at a party. Plus, Lenny still wasn't clear what had happened with the engagement swapping, who really wanted to marry who, whom?

That left Mrs. Babish. Yeah, she was Laverne's stepmother, which would make things awkward, but he got the impression at Mr. DeFazio's dinner that she knew something was up with him and Laverne. It wasn't anything she said, just looks that she gave him and Laverne. He didn't think anyone else, including Mr. DeFazio, picked up on it. In any case, she was kind and sensible, more motherly than his own mother, or even Shirley's, who still couldn't get his name right after twenty years.

He put on his shoes and drove over. It was around four o'clock and he'd have time to talk to her before the dinner rush. The tricky part would be talking to her without her husband around, but maybe he could ask her to go for a walk or something.

She was alone when he went into the restaurant, but she was on the phone. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but it was a hard habit to break. After all, it had once saved Laverne from marrying the Fonz. Fonzie was very cool of course and Lenny knew he had made out with Laverne a few times, but Laverne deserved a husband who thought she was the most special woman in the world.

Mrs. Babish had her back to him, but he could hear her clearly.

"I am glad you made the doctor's appointment....You're welcome. I admit to being desperate to find out the truth myself. And the doctor could still give a pregnancy test, even if the results aren't one hundred percent accurate....No, the restaurant is empty at the moment, so he went to the men's room and Rosita and Sabrina went to take their break before the dinner rush....OK, take care, Honey."

Lenny left the restaurant before anyone could see him. He got in the truck and drove for a block before he had to pull over because he couldn't focus on the road.

Mrs. Babish had been talking to Laverne. He knew that she didn't call any of her own kids Honey. (Amy, who was 23 now, was usually Baby, although she said in her last semi-annual letter to Lenny that it took her a long time to accept that her mom would always treat her like the baby because she was the youngest.)

Laverne might be pregnant! Lenny's first thought was that Sonny was the father. After all, it wasn't even a month since Sonny left for Italy.

Then he remembered what Squiggy told him yesterday about Laverne and London. And he remembered the time she got drunk at a Shotz party and thought she might be pregnant.

Lenny got out of the truck and stepped into a phone booth. He found a dime and dialed, although it wasn't until the ringing started that it occurred to him that the girls didn't get off work until six.

Someone picked up and he launched into it, although he hadn't had time to work out what he wanted to say. "Please listen to what I have to say and don't interrupt. I know none of this would've happened if I hadn't passed out at the party, but your baby needs a last name and he doesn't have one, and Kosnowski is still a pretty good name." He paused for breath.

"I think you want to speak with Laverne."

Waves of embarrassment and guilt crashed down on Lenny at the sound of Shirley's voice. He couldn't even pretend it was a wrong number because she knew it was him. He'd given away what Laverne had done with probably London, when he hadn't discussed it with Laverne. And now he'd have to talk to Laverne while she was standing in front of Shirley. At the same time, he felt a mix of anger, jealousy, inadequacy, and protectiveness towards Laverne because she might've gotten pregnant by another man right after he touched her.

He decided to keep it short. He told her they needed to talk, and when she wanted to wait an hour, probably so she could talk to Shirley first, he suggested his place, which she agreed to. Normally he loved being alone with her, even if they were just sitting on the couch laughing and talking, maybe watching TV. But everything was different now, and not just because he'd touched her everywhere. It was like that stupid Hollywood party had changed their lives forever, and not just Shirley's. Even his permanent felt for a few days like it was going to be permanent, although it was straight again now. (At the Welcome Back dinner, Mr. DeFazio looked at Lenny's hat, asked, "You goin' skiin'?", and even when Lenny shook his head, launched into a story about skiing as a kid in Brooklyn.)

Still, this wasn't something that they could talk about in front of anyone, and he'd just have to hope that Squiggy wouldn't come back early from his date. At least people tended not to drop by unannounced like they did all the time at the girls' place.


	17. Letter from an Unknown Woman

Dear Derek,

  


I don't know if you'll ever see this letter, but maybe I can at least hand it to you when you arrive. I do want to talk things out with you, but I've discovered there's something to be said for being able to say what I have to say without interruption, and the reader can have a chance to digest my words at his own pace.

I'm honored that you love me, but I have to be honest and say that I don't love you. If I hadn't been unknowingly intoxicated on marijuana-filled brownies, I never would've consented to marrying you or London, certainly not both. I don't love him either, although I was infatuated with him from afar before he proposed.

Maybe in your world, people meet, fall in love, and marry in a matter of hours. I'm not that spontaneous, and I think even Laverne wouldn't have rushed off to a Vegas wedding chapel with you if she were sober.

But it happened to me, to us. We're married. I would like to be a good wife to you, but I hardly know you. Sometimes I wish we really were writing back and forth, but it's not like you're my pen pal. And it feels funny to try to get acquainted when we're already married.

Still, I can keep thinking about how peculiar this all is, or I can just accept it for what it is. I can not simply make the best of things but see this as the unique opportunity it is. After all, you do come from another world.

I want to know what your life was like in Lamberhurst, the things I haven't been able to gather from reading what other people have written about you. I've seen your baby pictures and the pictures of you and your best friend Landon Silverman as cute little boys in school uniforms, but I want to hear your stories directly from you.

I want to know about your teenage crushes and what British teens do on dates, since you found the idea of the Pizza Bowl so strange. (I can remember you on the plane to Las Vegas saying, "You ate pizza in a bowl?" And I couldn't tell if you were just teasing me.)

I want to hold your hand or snuggle with you as you tell me about how you discovered rock & roll, what Elvis and Chuck Berry and all those American singers meant to you when their strange, wonderful music crossed the Atlantic and played on whatever radio stations you got on "the wireless." I want you to tell me in your own words how you and Landon traded singles and then chords, as you taught yourselves to play guitar, to make your own music. I want you to add quirky little details to the stories I know, like how your first band was called Gold & Silver, but then you met Malcolm Bridges in art school. How you teased Landon when he said from now on he would just be London, "and you contain multitudes."

Tell me of your struggles and success, because I have married you for better or for worse, and you have chosen a career that can be extreme. You didn't go from rags to riches, but you did get rich fast. You might be like Elvis and stay famous, but you know as well as I do how many singers and bands fade away after a year or less. (Laverne still has "Alley Oop" committed to memory and will sing it with our friend Lenny at the drop of a hat, but the Hollywood Argyles were one-hit wonders.)

I know or can find out from publicity the little details I'd have asked on our first date: favorite food, favorite color, favorite movie, etc. But there's so much more to find out, things you don't tell the public or maybe not even London. I know it will take time to trust me with your secrets, your fears and your most private dreams. I think in some ways trust comes slower and harder than love, especially the sort of intense, sudden love you feel for me.

There are only three people in this world who I fully trust. I'm not related to any of them, although you know how dear and precious my family is to me. When I know you better, I'll tell you about how I adored my daddy and how he kept disappointing me. How I looked up to my mama and how I kept disappointing her. How I listened to my big brothers until I realized there were things I knew that they didn't.

The first person I trusted that I still fully trust was and is Laverne. I was wary of her at first, this tough little tomboy with the foreign accent. But even in Brooklynese, she spoke my language, about the things that mattered, like which teachers were the meanest and which candy was the sweetest. My mother thought the girl with the L's on her blouses and sweaters was a bad influence, especially when we got kicked out of Brownies (not the edible kind, sort of like Girl Scouts) together. But I tried to be a good influence on Laverne.

We've been through a lot, some of which I've told you about. We confide nearly everything in each other. Which is not to say we don't have secrets. But I did tell her everything I remember about our wedding night. And she told me, not immediately but eventually, what she did that night. The marijuana affected her in a different way than it affected me, but maybe you already knew that.

I also really trust Laverne's stepmother, who used to be our landlady, Mrs. Babish. I think I mentioned her in a couple of my stories. She's so wise and nonjudgmental. She's also been married six times, so I've talked to her about my marriage. I don't agree with everything she said, but I appreciate her honesty.

The other person I truly trust is someone I never mentioned. I think even in my intoxicated state, I didn't want you to know about Carmine Ragusa. Maybe I was being protective of him, or you. Maybe I was worried you'd be jealous of him.

Carmine and I started dating in high school and were still dating until I married you. We were never exclusive, but we were devoted I guess. He's still very special to me. I would never cheat on you of course, but I can't immediately shut off my feelings for him.

He and I never made love. I meant it when I told you I was a virgin on our wedding night. And, well, this is embarrassing to admit, but I'm not sure whether I still am one.

This is no reflection on you. I'm sure it's the fault of the marijuana, but I have absolutely no memory of what we did after the naked kissing. I thought it would come back to me, but it's been a week and a half and it's still a blank.

Did you decide to wait until we could spend more time together? Were you just not in the mood? In some ways, I feel rejected, but I think I'm also grateful that our first time will be special.

Or did it happen? Was it good? Was I good? I know you still love me, so I guess you were happy with our wedding night.

I wish you would write to me, even just a postcard showing some town where you're playing, even if I can't write back. Or maybe it would be better if you called. Maybe we couldn't say everything we have to say, but it would be good to hear your voice again.

One thing I want to talk to you about is a situation that may change completely by the time you return. At the time I'm writing this, I don't think you know, but I'm sure you will by then, or I'll have to tell you, maybe through this letter. My neighbor Rhonda, who I think I mentioned to you, told her tabloid publisher date about our marriage. The reason she revealed this is not worth going into. The story is not as bad as it could be, but I feel exposed and yet in a hidden way. That is, our secret is out but I'm not even sure if it was meant to be a secret, and I don't know who knows or believes it.

I hope it won't hurt your career, hurt the band, like it does sometimes when pop singers marry. I suppose you thought about that before you proposed to Laverne and then me. Or maybe you were so swept away by your emotions, especially with me, you didn't think it through.

Do you want to make a big announcement? Is this something your manager would handle? What would my role be?

Have you told your family? (My mother knows, but because of the tabloid.) I suppose I'll meet them when I go with you to England in a couple months. I can't remember the last time I met a man's parents.

It wasn't the Cunninghams, was it? Eight years ago I accidentally coldcocked Richie Cunningham, a sweet cute kid that I was on a first date with. I was going to kiss his face and make it better, when his parents and sister walked in on us.

We almost got married after three dates, and now that feels less like rushing into things than it once did. But you and I have time to get to know each other, and I hope in a couple months we can truly begin. 

  


Sincerely yours,  
Shirley


	18. Cards on the Table

Laverne decided not to change out of her post-work jeans and Dodgers T-shirt. It wasn't just that she didn't want to disturb Shirley in the middle of writing a wifely letter. She didn't want to worry about what was the appropriate outfit to wear for her visit across the hall. And Lenny was one of the few people she could be herself around. She would wear comfortable clothes for this uncomfortable conversation.

She didn't yell goodbye up to Shirley but just headed over. She did knock, even though Lenny was expecting her. She tried not to think of seven years ago, when she visited Lenny in his new apartment to return his "One Wolf" jacket, after L-ifying it. He'd startled her with a big kiss of gratitude, which she thought about every time he wore his red jacket.

"Come in," he yelled through the door, so she let herself in. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, like the day he apartment-sat after the party.

She sat down across from him at the card table. The boys had never owned a sofa, or lived in an apartment big enough to accommodate one. She tried to ignore the bunk beds behind her, right out in the living room, because the boys didn't have an upstairs or any side room to their studio, besides the tiny kitchen and the bathroom/ walk-in closet. (They had laid claim to the "tunnel" connecting the closet to the girls' living room, which Squiggy said they used for storage, she didn't want to know of what.)

She wasn't sure who was supposed to go first, because they both had a lot to say, so she coughed.

Then Lenny said, "I don't care if it's not mine."

"Uh, don't care if what's yours?"

"The baby, Laverne."

"I'm not pregnant, Len."

"Then why are you taking a pregnancy test?"

"I'm not."

"But Mrs. Babish thinks you should."

"She told you that?"

"Well, no, I thought she was telling you, but maybe she was talking to her daughter. Not Amy, the married one."

Lenny had had a sweet little romance with Amy Babish about five years ago. Amy was slow but curious about boys, so Laverne and Shirley gave her kissing lessons, which she tried out on Lenny. It never went further than one little kiss, but she and Lenny still sent each other occasional letters.

It was one of the things she loved about Lenny, how gentle and respectful he was towards the girl who was now sort of Laverne's kid sister. But she couldn't dwell on it just then because of what else he said.

"Were you eavesdropping on Edna at Cowboy Bill's?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah. I'm sorry."

Unlike Squiggy, Lenny apologized easily, and she always forgave him. This time, she shook her head and said, "You could've spared yourself some worry if you hadn't listened in on her phone call."

"So she wasn't talking to you?"

"She was, but I made the doctor's appointment for Shirley."

"Shirley is pregnant?" Now his expression was half concern, half joy, as if he wasn't sure if this was a good thing, even though Shirley was married.

"No, well, I don't know. It's too early to tell." She didn't want to tell him that Shirley might still be a virgin.

"Oh. And how do you know you're not pregnant?"

"Because it's impossible."

Now his face lit up. "Really?"

"Well, very unlikely. I'm on the Pill and that's very reliable." She blushed as she added, "And Sonny always uses condoms." She tried not to think of how Sonny had been with Rhonda and might now be with "Italian beauties."

"But what about," Lenny whispered, "at the party?"

She rolled her eyes. "Len, I couldn't get pregnant from what happened in the gazebo."

He frowned and leaned back. "I wasn't talking about me."

Her body felt hot and cold. "Who told you?" she whispered. Had Edna betrayed her? Maybe Edna blurted it out after Lenny eavesdropped on the phone call.

"Squiggy."

"How does he know?" Had Squiggy somehow spied on the jolly room? No, the timing was off. Squiggy was cuddling with Lenny when she left the gazebo. She had wondered, when Shirley told her Lenny thought she was pregnant, if Lenny had somehow known she had sex that night, but it was still a shock to get confirmation.

"London told him you were," Lenny's voice went quiet with embarrassment and jealousy, "a great shag."

She blushed at the compliment and looked away at the purple walls. She'd never heard the term before but easily guessed at its meaning. She hadn't thought the sex was great, but London had come and she hadn't. She was surprised he'd told Squiggy, but maybe he'd noticed that the girls knew "Simon and Garfunkel" and he'd asked Squiggy where she was. By then, she had caught a cab with another member of the band. She was sure London and Malcolm compared notes on her later, whether or not they told Derek, who just knew she was a great hand-holder.

She looked at Lenny and he seemed so hurt and vulnerable, especially his big blue eyes. His hands were on the table, so she took one and said, "I'm sorry you found out this way."

He didn't pull away, but he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "I didn't tell anyone but Edna."

"Not even Shirley?"

"No, I thought she'd be ashamed of me, or at least think less of me."

"It's like you said, everything you did that night was because you was accidentally high. And it's not like she didn't eat the brownies and do something crazy, too."

She squeezed his hand. "Yeah. She was much better about it, when I told her about London an hour ago, than I expected."

He squeezed back. "I'm glad, but I feel bad that she heard me say that I thought you were in trouble."

She wondered if he had proposed again, like he had seven years ago. They were younger and more innocent then. She was pretty sure he'd never voe-dee-oh-doed, although he would claim he "had witnesses." He hadn't yet written "In Love with Laverne," and he simply said he liked her, as if that was enough for a marriage, when he wasn't even the nonexistent baby's father. They were so much closer now, but wouldn't that make it harder for him to offer a "marriage of convenience"? She was not going to ask, because what if he proposed to her face, knowing she wasn't pregnant and knowing she still didn't love him in the right way? It would be a lot harder on her than when she had to reject Sal Molina.

She swallowed. "It's OK. You didn't know it was her."

He nodded. "Right. Um, did you tell her about me?"

"Well, yeah, I figured as long as I was telling her about London, I should." She wasn't going to tell him that she had still left out details, that she hadn't explained to Shirley the connection between what happened in the gazebo and what happened in the jolly room.

"Is she mad at me for touching you?"

"Yeah, she's gonna come over here and punch your lights out."

"Hey, Fonzie told me she once punched out Richie Cunningham. She's a tough little broad."

They laughed together and it was a little bit of release. Their hands let go as she put one to her face because sometimes she was self-conscious about her teeth when she laughed.

He lightly touched her cheek and murmured, "Don't. I like to see you laugh."

"Len," she said, and then stopped, not sure what to say next, and thinking of how she hadn't told him Shirley's real reaction to him touching Laverne.

"What's the worst that could happen?" he whispered, leaning in as if for a kiss.

Like the sun rising in the east, Squiggy burst through his own apartment door and said, "Hello."

Laverne sighed and turned to see Squiggy in his "impressivario" outfit, cape and all, accompanied by a beehived brunette in a gold lamé minidress. Laverne wouldn't swear to it, but she thought that was the same girl that Squiggy used to go around with back in Milwaukee sometimes. In fact, she dimly remembered this as the girl that Squiggy got drunk the night Lenny slept over and wrote a song about Laverne. 

She half expected Squiggy to kick Lenny out of the apartment so he could have the place to himself, but instead he said, "Lenny, put on your best tux. Rhonda is gonna help us gate-crush an awards show!" 

Laverne stood up, kissed Lenny on the forehead, and said, "Have fun, Kids."

She left before Lenny could say more than a muttered "Thanks, Laverne."


	19. The Beat Goes On

**_Tiger Beat_ exclusive interview! Derek DeWoods tells all about his whirlwind romance! With pix of the blushing bride!**

With gossip bubbling from the Sunset Strip to Nashville about the love life of London's Bridges' cheeky guitarist, _Tiger Beat's_ intrepid gal reporter Sherri Glass tracked the band of Brits to Chicago to get the real scoop.

SG: So, Derek? Are the rumors true?

DDW: Yes, Prince Charles is our new drummer. (SG chuckles.) And I got married.

SG: Ooo, so tell us about her.

DDW: Well, she's very shy and sweet, down to earth and sensible, but playful and funny. And very, very pretty.

SG: What's her name?

DDW: Mrs. Dewoods.

SG: (laughing) Oh, Derek!

DDW: Her Christian name is Shirley, but I call her My Little Star Monkey.

SG: Awww! So how did you two meet?

DDW: Believe it or not, it was at a Hollywood party, although she's nothing like the other women in Hollywood. We fell in love at first sight and got married that night, before I left on this tour.

SG: Wow! You must miss her.

DDW: Terribly, but the tour will be over in six weeks and then I'll take her to Lamberhurst to meet my family.

SG: What about London?

DDW: Well, yes, I'll probably take her round the tourist traps, like the Tower.

SG: No, I mean London is your 'best mate.' How does he feel about your wife?

DDW: He thinks she's quite groovy.

SG: Oh, how sweet! Maybe he'll find someone special, too.

DDW: Well, there is something about you American birds.

SG: (giggling) Oh, Derek!

(Turn to page 7 for adorable pictures of Shirley DeWoods when she was growing up, courtesy of her childhood best friend, Rosella Greenbaum.)


	20. The End of the Line

Shirley reentered the waiting room in a daze.

Laverne tossed aside the month-old copy of _Good Housekeeping_ she was pretending to read, leapt to her feet, and demanded, "Whatdidhesay?" in her thickest Brooklynese.

Shirley held up a halting hand to indicate that this needed to wait, stepped over to the receptionist's window, and took her wallet out of her purse.

"Would you like to schedule a follow-up appointment, Mrs. Smith?" the receptionist asked.

"Not at this time," Shirley said as she handed over the payment. She went over to Laverne and led her out into the hallway, ignoring the curious looks of the other women, half of them visibly pregnant.

"Shirl?"

"I'll tell you outside, while we wait for the bus."

Laverne nodded although she looked understandably confused and impatient.

They took the elevator down but just made small talk with the other passengers. Shirley knew she should let go of Laverne's arm, but she needed her best friend's strength and steadiness for support.

They got down to the lobby and headed back out into the unreal California sunshine. Terry Buttafucco's last letter said it was snowing in Wisconsin.

They sat down on the bus bench and Laverne demanded, "Well?"

"It's sort of embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than what I did?"

"It's not what I did. It's more what I am."

"What are you, deformed down there?"

"Laverne!"

"I'm sorry, Shirl. Go ahead."

Blushing, Shirley whispered, "He said I don't have a hymen "

"Then you did it!"

Shirley shushed her and whispered, "He also said there were 'no signs of recent sexual activity.' "

"Then why don't you have a, um?"

"He thinks I might've been born without one. Some girls are."

"Lucky!"

Shirley grimaced. She didn't feel lucky.

Laverne chuckled. "Wow, all this time you've been guarding something that doesn't exist!"

Shirley didn't want to explain, especially in public, how chastity wasn't just something physical but a spiritual and mental goal. Even though she was married now, it mattered under what circumstances she would become sexually active, especially now that she knew that she hadn't had a real wedding night. She knew she would have to explain about her lack to Derek when the time came, but she was sure he'd understand, especially since he hadn't been expecting her to be a virgin anyway.

"Hey, this means you can get an annulment instead of a divorce."

Shirley was about to remind Laverne that she had no plans to end her marriage, when a man yelled from across the street, "Mrs. DeWoods!"

Was that a reporter? A fan? Someone in the London's Bridges organization? And how had he traced her here?

Before Shirley could take another look or say anything, a bus pulled up and Laverne pushed her onto it.

"Laverne, this isn't our bus."

"I know," Laverne said, handing the driver two fares. Then she escorted Shirley to two empty seats in the back. Laverne looked out the side and back windows before she said, "I think we lost him, but just to be on the safe side...."

Then Shirley got it and burst into tears. "We can't go home!"

Laverne shook her head. "At least not right away."

"How did he find me? And who is he?"

"Dunno, but I figured it was nobody you'd want to talk to, especially after, you know, your appointment."

"Oh, Vernie," Shirley whispered, "what if he tries to talk to your doctor?"

"There's doctor-patient confidentiality, so I think you're OK. Not to say he won't snoop around."

Shirley cried harder.

Laverne put her arm around her and said, "Hey, Shirl, I'll look out for you. You know that."

Shirley nodded but it was hard to stop crying, when she was so scared and confused. "What are we going to do? Where are we going to go?"

"We're going to the end of the line."

Shirley understood. They'd take this bus wherever it was going and then find their way back to familiar territory. And they'd come up with some sort of plan, although it was clear that the _Peeper_ article was filtering out and more and more people knew about her secret elopement.

Laverne waited until Shirley's sobs subsided before she got up and went back up front to grab a bus schedule. They would need to know about the return buses and what connections were possible if they weren't going to call the boys to have them pick them up in the ice cream truck. Well, no, Laverne probably wouldn't want to ask Lenny for a favor right now. She hadn't said much about her talk across the hallway Wednesday evening, just that they cleared the air some.

Shirley would've suggested they call Carmine, but it was Friday and he was working, at a job that wasn't exactly at a desk. He could be delivering telegrams anywhere in the greater Los Angeles area. And it wasn't like he or Sonny could afford a car phone.

Shirley supposed they could call a cab, despite the expense, but where could they could go? Where would be safe from the prying eyes and ears of the public and the press?

"Here's our stop," Laverne said, as the bus pulled over at a gas station. They were the last ones on, so at least Shirley didn't have to have anyone watch her and Laverne leave, other than the driver, who she of course thanked.

He nodded and went away from the gas pumps to light a cigarette. Laverne grabbed her arm and led her into the little market attached to the station, the only store on that block, unless you counted the shoe store.

"Can we have the key to the ladies'?" Laverne asked the clerk.

"You gotta buy somethin'," he grunted.

Laverne grabbed a package of Scooter Pies and set it on the counter. "Here."

"Fifty cents," said the clerk, slapping the key down next to the chocolaty marshmallow snack.

Laverne handed Shirley the key. "You go first. I'm gonna get some other stuff and I'll meet you there."

"How will I know it's you?"

Laverne rolled her eyes. "I'll do the secret knock."

Shirley wanted to ask, "What secret knock?", but Laverne looked impatient. So Shirley nodded and headed for the restroom.

It wasn't too filthy for a gas station restroom. The mirror was unstreaked enough that she could see her reflection. Her face was pink and puffy from crying, and her mascara had streaked. She got her makeup bag out of her purse and fixed her face with the help of running water that was mostly clear.

Laverne still hadn't knocked. Shirley decided that as long as she was in the ladies', she should use the toilet. She'd given a urine sample at the doctor's, just in case, but she had no idea what the rest of the day would be like, so she should probably go while she could.

The stall looked like it had been cleaned recently, so she went in. It wasn't until she wiped herself afterwards that she realized her time of the month had come a couple days early. She had half expected to be late because of stress. She therefore didn't have anything in her purse to take care of it. She stuffed toilet paper in her panties for now.

She wasn't pregnant, and she seemed to be a virgin. She was both relieved and disappointed.

As she washed her hands, she wondered what was taking Laverne so long. She hoped that the strange man hadn't followed them southeast from Burbank and cornered Laverne. Shirley was safe in the ladies' room, but she couldn't stay there forever.

As she was drying her hands on a paper towel, she thought she heard Carmine's knock. She jumped before she realized it must be Laverne. Still, she said, "Who is it?" in the suspicious voice she used to use the first couple years when she and Laverne had their Milwaukee apartment and would get their baseball bats every time someone knocked. Shirley gave that up the day she almost beaned Mrs. Babish. Then Laverne had pointed out that the main people who dropped by were the boys, who rarely knocked, and Carmine, who had his own distinctive knock.

Shirley could picture the eyeroll on "Julie Andrews, here to serenade you with the _Sound of Music_ soundtrack."

Shirley yanked the door open in case Laverne wasn't kidding about that part. Laverne came in and Shirley let the door lock shut behind her. Laverne was holding a large paper bag, which she reached into to pull out a package of sunflower seeds. She held it out to Shirley and said, "It was the healthiest thing in the store."

"Thank you," Shirley said as she took them. She'd gotten into health food after moving to California, while Laverne still loved her junk food. As Laverne reached into the already opened package of Scooter Pies, Shirley couldn't help wondering if this was lunch and if they'd still be hiding out here at dinnertime.

She ate half a handful of seeds as Laverne wolfed down a Pie. Then Laverne reached into the paper bag and pulled something else out.

For the second time in a week, Shirley screamed at the sight of her husband's face on a magazine cover.

Laverne grimaced. "I saw it on the rack when we went into the market. I knew I had to get you out of there before you saw it."

"I thought you were just hiding me away from anyone pursuing us."

"That, too. Go ahead and read the interview. It's short."

Shirley took the copy of _Tiger Beat_ and flipped to the right page. She read the interview as Laverne ate another Pie.

She chuckled at the end. "I like how she's calling herself Rosella now."

Laverne frowned. "I love how she's calling herself your childhood best friend."

"Um, she was."

"I'm your best friend!"

"You are now, but remember? We weren't officially best friends until fifth grade."

"Only because your mother thought I was a bad influence."

"You are a bad influence. I didn't want to go to that Hollywood party."

"Hey, I'm not the one who made us eat pot brownies."

Both girls laughed, and then shook their heads and sighed.

"Uh, what did you think about what Derek said?" Laverne asked.

"I'm so confused, Vernie," Shirley admitted. "He sounds like he really cares for me, but why hasn't he contacted me directly?"

"I don't know, Shirl. And what's with him flirting with the interviewer?"

"He's a flirty man, Laverne. You know that. It doesn't mean anything."

"What about when he told London he 'loves these California birds,' and then, boom, that night they propose?"

"He only said that because you asked, 'May we have your babies?' when we were taking their orders."

"I was nervous. We both were."

"Laverne, I'm not going to have a baby."

"Well, no, not until you figure out what's going on with your marriage."

"No, I mean, I got my period."

Laverne's eyes widened. "You're early, Shirley?"

"Yes. Would you mind going back into the market and getting me some Kotex?" 

Laverne sighed and handed her the paper bag. "There's a _Peeper_ in there, too. I didn't have time to look through it, but there's definitely no cover story on Derek this week."

While Laverne was gone, Shirley absent-mindedly ate the rest of the sunflower seeds and skimmed the tabloid. She and Derek were indeed absent from that issue, which made her wonder if Rhonda had intervened on her behalf. By the time Laverne returned, Shirley had started in on the Scooter Pies.


	21. You Only Live Twice

As Laverne again went up and down the aisles of El Monte Gas 'n Shop, trying to ignore the suspicious looks of the clerk, she recalled her call ten minutes earlier.

"Howdy, this is Cowboy Bill's."

"Hello, Pop?"

"Muffin? What's wrong?"

She wished she could say nothing was wrong, but she needed his help. Well, Shirley needed it more.

"Pop, I need you to pick up Shirley at the gas station on the corner of Marshall and Williams in El Monte. Then I need you to take her someplace safe that no one, not even me, knows about."

"What's with all the cloak and dagger stuff?"

"Edna can explain on the way over."

"Edna?!"

In the background, Edna could be heard saying, "Yes, Frank?"

"Talk to your daughter. I don't understand her."

A pause and then Edna's concerned "Amy? Judy?"

"Edna, it's Laverne."

"Oh, Honey, when your father said...." She laughed. "He was doing the parent thing. You know, you're my daughter when you've done something wrong." Edna's amusement vanished. "Oh, Honey!"

"I haven't done anything in the past couple weeks." Laverne didn't think it was worth mentioning holding Lenny's hand and almost letting him kiss her. "I need you to go with Pop to pick up Shirley and tell him about her elopement without mentioning marijuana or anything I did that night. Well, you can tell him about me playing electric guitar."

Edna, bless her, didn't argue or ask difficult questions, just "Does Frank have the address?"

"Yeah, it's in El Monte."

"OK, tell Shirley we'll be there in about an hour, maybe less, depending on traffic."

"Thanks, Edna."

"Take care, Honey."

Laverne had hung up and then eaten a Scooter Pie as she read Derek's interview in _Tiger Beat_. Then she'd scowled and headed to the restroom.

"How much longer is your friend gonna be in the ladies'?" the clerk now asked. Laverne went over and set her second batch of purchases on the counter. "Never mind," he said, as he looked at the price on the feminine hygiene product.

As Laverne headed back to the restroom, she looked at the distant hills and thought of Sonny telling her that "El Monte" didn't mean "the mountain" but "the wood," because there were no mountains in the valley. He'd once given her a memorable California geography lesson, using her body as the atlas, and she still remembered where "Nice," "Cool," and "Paradise" were. In the only letter he'd sent so far, he'd told her about Italian towns like Bra (which meant bra), Belsedere (cute bottom), Troia (slut), and Orgia (orgy). Her father and grandmother had understandably never mentioned those places to her.

Instead of knocking, this time she burst into "The hills are alive with the sound of music!"

Shirley yanked the door open right away, looking annoyed but amused. "Aren't we supposed to be inconspicuous?"

"There's no one around, Shirl."

Shirley shook her head and swapped bags with Laverne. Laverne looked into the first bag and asked, "You ate my Scooter Pies? Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

Instead of answering Laverne's rhetorical questions, Shirley said, "You got Tampax?"

"They didn't have Kotex."

"But you know I don't use tampons."

"Yeah, because your mother told you a dozen years ago that they would 'damage your purity.' "

Shirley blushed at this reminder that, one, she'd never had a hymen to break, and two, she didn't get her period until she was fifteen, three years after Laverne. The girls really were best friends, no matter what Rosie said, and they knew very personal, intimate things about each other.

"Can you show me how to use it?" Shirley whispered.

Now Laverne blushed, too, although she nodded. She was tempted to leave it for motherly Edna to explain, but that would still be another half hour to forty-five minutes. And that would have to be with her father waiting impatiently outside the restroom, wondering what was going on.

The two roommates went into the stall together with the Tampax, leaving Laverne's other purchases on the not too filthy tiled floor. It reminded Laverne a little of when Shirley had showed her how to use curlers, although much more personal and intimate.

As Shirley washed her hands afterwards, she asked plaintively, "What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?"

"I called my pop and he'll take care of it."

"You called your father?"

"Yeah, after I bought the Scooter Pies and everything." She wondered if she could go back in the market a third time.

"Why didn't you say something before?"

"Shirl, I've been a little distracted here."

"I'm sorry, Vernie, you've been wonderful about everything."

Laverne shrugged. "You'd do the same for me." She didn't have to add that they both knew that if either of them had thought a month ago about which of them was more likely to be so stoned on marijuana that she'd elope with a British rock & roll star, Shirley would not be their first guess.

"What did you tell your father?"

"I said I need him to pick you up and hide you someplace safe."

"What about you?"

"I'm not the one in the magazines."

"No, but you're my roommate and reporters are bound to track you down and ask you questions."

"Hey, I wasn't there when Derek proposed to you, I wasn't at the wedding, and I sure as hell wasn't in the bridal suite."

Shirley didn't laugh. "And what about when they ask you where I am?"

"I asked my pop not to tell me."

"Oh. And how much did you tell him?"

"Nothing. Edna's gonna explain along the way, but just that you eloped, nothing else."

"Laverne, the teenybopper readers of _Tiger Beat_ might buy that I was so in love with a singer at first sight that I'd run off with him, but I doubt your father would."

Laverne shrugged. "Edna is smart, kind, and loyal. I trust her to come up with a good cover story. Besides," Laverne couldn't help teasing, "remember Ensign Benson?"

Blushing, Shirley said, "That was after a few days, not a few hours, and I didn't want to marry him."

"No, but you thought he wanted to marry you. So why not Derek?"

"Well, yes, Derek obviously did want to marry me." Laverne did her best to control her jealousy as Shirley continued, "But why would I marry a total stranger?"

"He didn't seem like a stranger. You'd listened to his music and read everything you could about him. You had a crush on Derek even before you met."

Shirley shook her head. "I had a crush on London."

"No, the way Edna will probably tell it, you told her that afternoon that Derek was the cutest rock singer since God blessed this Earth with Fabian."

Shirley nodded but surprised her by asking, "How are you getting home?"

"I'll wait until they get here and then I'll take the bus back."

"What if we both went to wherever your father's taking me?"

"I thought about that." On the long bus ride over. "But someone's gotta hold down the fort, make excuses to Mr. Hildebrand and everyone."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"That your husband doesn't want you to work."

"But what if I decide to get an annulment and want to go back to Bardwell's?"

Laverne sighed impatiently. "Then we'll beg Mr. Hildebrand for your job back."

"OK. But what makes you think your father can find a place to hide me?"

"He knows people."

"Like the Mob?" Shirley whispered.

Laverne rolled her eyes. "The DeFazios aren't Sicilian."

"I'm sorry, Laverne, that was very prejudiced of me."

"It's OK. And I just meant like, he meets a lot of people in the restaurant business."

Shirley nodded. "When will he and Edna get here?"

"Maybe another twenty or thirty minutes, depending on traffic."

"And then we won't see each other for another six weeks, until the band comes back to LA."

"Yeah, and then Derek will probably whisk you off to Lamberhurst."

The two girls looked at each other as it sunk in that this might be the last time that they'd be alone together, maybe one of the last times they'd ever see each other. Laverne held out her arms and went to hug Shirley, but her best friend surprised her, really surprised her, by kissing her on the mouth!

It wasn't like it was their first kiss. They'd kissed as marionettes for "The Wedding of Jack & Jill" in a Shotz talent show. And Shirley had kissed Laverne on the lips when she thought they were going to die the time that Laverne had to land a plane. But this was different. They weren't putting on a show and their lives weren't in danger.

The kiss was long enough for Laverne to realize it was happening but not long enough to kiss back or push Shirley away, like she was Icky Hector or some other overeager boy.

Shirley's big blue eyes looked at her with apology and fear and hope and something Laverne couldn't quite name.

"Shirl," Laverne said gently, "I love you, but not like I love men."

"I know, but you're the most important person in my life, and I have to tell you goodbye."

"You're married," Laverne said, as if that was the worst part of this, the cheating.

"I won't tell Derek if you won't tell Sonny."

"Heck, I haven't even decided if I'll tell Sonny about Malcolm."

Both girls laughed and then Laverne stroked Shirley's hair, which was longer and redder than in Milwaukee. "If we're doin' a goodbye kiss, I want a real goodbye kiss."

Shirley's eyes shone and her lips puckered. It was like and unlike the times Laverne had kissed her best guy friend. Shirley was so petite and delicate, but she was also, as Lenny had said on Wednesday, a tough little broad. So when Laverne gently pressed her lips against Shirley's, her best girl friend wrapped her arms tightly around her.

They kissed for quite awhile. Shirley's lips were soft but flexible, her tongue wet and agile, and Laverne could understand a little of the effect her mouth had had on Carmine, Richie, Squiggy, Ensign Benson, and other men. Laverne didn't get goosebumps but she did enjoy herself, more than she had with most of the approximately 2200 men she'd kissed. (Two thousand of those were sailors about to ship out in one day though, so those goodbye kisses had been pretty rushed.)

Eventually the absurdity of a farewell in an El Monte gas station restroom struck them and their private display of affection ended in giggles before it could turn into necking and hickeys. By the time Frank DeFazio pounded on the door and said, "It's me, Agent Double-Oh-Eight, here to take Agent-Size-Five to a secret undisclosed location," and Edna Babish called, "Are you girls all right?", the two roommates had fixed their mussed hair and smeared lipstick. They both knew from their high school years all about looking innocent when parents showed up a few minutes after a makeout.


	22. Lovers and Other Strangers

Dear Laverne,

  


I've never had to write a letter like this before. I've thought about calling you, but that would be hard, even if it wasn't long distance. It's not about me being cheap, like Carmine thinks. (And I'm not the one who uses coupons on dates.) I think it will be easier if I just write this all down, not editing myself but also not letting you or my own doubts stop me.

First let me say that you're a wonderful woman. Smart, strong, brave, beautiful, and probably the funniest girl I've ever met. I treasure our time together, but it has to end.

I've never had to break up with someone for a reason like this, but I think you'll understand when I tell you. Do you remember your father suggesting I look up some of his relatives while I'm here in Italy? Well, I did and they were very warm and welcoming. They teased me that I must be Italian rather than French, because I love Italian food, but who doesn't?

Everything was going fine until I met one of your cousins. No, I'm not going to confess to falling for one of your female cousins, although they are almost as beautiful as you. This was one of your male cousins. No, I didn't fall for him either, which would be particularly strange, considering what he looks like.

Not that he's bad-looking, although I can't really judge. OK, I'll just say it. He looks like me. Same build, same face. If I didn't cut my dark hair for stuntwork, it would be just as curly as his.

I'm not the only one who sees the resemblance. When I first arrived for dinner, your female cousins whispered and giggled, but in my conceit I thought they just thought I was good-looking. Even when your older relatives gasped in a language I'm struggling to learn after a month, I thought they were marveling at my looks, which they were, but not how I thought.

Then your cousin Antonio came in late, apologizing (he later told me, in English that was surprisingly good) because one of his goats was sick. After his apology, he noticed the stranger staring at him and he stared back. Then he burst into laughter so infectious I had to laugh, too, despite my mixed emotions. He came over and hugged me like I was his long-lost twin brother, which I felt like I was.

We couldn't talk much at dinner, not with all the chatter, yelling, laughter, munching, and crunching of a large extended Italian family. I felt honored to be included, although at the same time uncomfortable because of my resemblance to Antonio.

He invited me to go on a walk through town, even though it's a pretty small town and there's not much to see. (The name, Capello, means hat.) I knew it was just an excuse to talk. I of course accepted, since at the least I wanted to find out why he spoke much better English than the rest of the family.

The first thing he said when we got outside was, "How are the girls? How are Carmine, Lenny, and Squidgy?"

You can imagine my surprise to find out that he had met you and your friends back in Wisconsin three years ago. He told me how he wanted to visit his "successful American cousins" and become an American himself. But there weren't a lot of jobs for goatherds in Milwaukee. As you know, he got a job in the zoo, and he was happy for awhile, but then he got homesick and he came back to Capello. He married a local girl, Anna, who was home looking after the goat while he went to the family dinner. He took me to meet her and their baby, Francesco, named after "Uncle Frank." The baby stared and Anna gasped and then joked about "i due padri," the two fathers.

It was an unsettling experience, even though I think Antonio is great, and a much nicer guy than my real brother. If I were just your friend and landlord, I might share his amusement and delight. Unfortunately, I can't forget what I've done with you and what we've meant to each other.

Now, I'm not going to psychoanalyze you and say that you have "unconscious incestuous desires" or something. You haven't seen your cousin in a long while and you may not remember exactly what he looks like. After all, I lived with Carmine for a couple months, and he never noticed the resemblance. But if it was weird for Shirley to date a man whose estranged blonde wife looked remarkably like her, you can imagine how I feel. (And knowing Shirley, she probably didn't actually sleep with Mark McKenzie.) It's going to be on my mind every time I see you. In fact, I'm seriously thinking of giving up managing the apartment building and letting Carmine take over for me permanently. At the least, I need a few months away from you to deal with this. There's lots of stuntwork for me here in Europe, so I'll make a good living.

I do really care about you and wish you the best. I hope you meet your Mr. Right and that nothing will stand in your way.

  


Your friend,  
Sonny  


  


P.S. I don't know the details, but I've heard rumors of Shirley's marriage to a rock & roll star. Please give her my hearty congratulations. (I haven't written to Carmine yet, but I hope he's doing OK.)

///

Dear Laverne,

  


I wasn't sure whether to write to you, but it's been a month and I can't stop thinking about you. And I've written about you, a song I can't play for anyone but you, unless I make it less revealing. It's called "Fooled Around and Fell in Love."

I thought when you surprised me in the jolly room that it was just sex, but now I know I want to truly make love to you. I think I'd like to marry you someday, although there's no need to rush into it like Derek and Shirley did. Let's get to know each other and see how it goes.

Maybe you can come with us when we go back to England, keep Shirley company when Derek is in the recording studio and all. How does that sound?

I realize it's next to impossible for you to write back, with the band on the road. I think even if Shirley weren't in hiding, Derek would just send postcards like he's been doing the last few weeks. Well, and he doesn't like to write more than a few lines at a time. (It took him a week to come up with "I'm giving you a shove, shove, shove"!)

Do you really not know where Shirley is? I hope she turns up by the time we return to Los Angeles, on the fifth of next month.

I'm writing this on the plane to New York City. I keep thinking of you and your charming accent, especially what you do to the O's in my name. I'll be silently dedicating every song to you on the Ed Sullivan programme tomorrow night.

  
Fondly,  
London  



	23. Castles in the Sand

"Do you have the list for next week?"

Shirley nodded and handed it over. "Thank you, Mary."

The lanky waitress nodded so that her long ponytails swung a little. Shirley had known her for years but didn't know her well. Mary had worked at the Pizza Bowl for over a decade, and then she accepted Mr. DeFazio's invitation to follow him out west to his new restaurant. He'd originally hired her when she was a widow with a baby, having lost her husband in the Korean Conflict. Her son was now in his early teens and had been thrilled about the move to Southern California. He was learning to surf, and Shirley thought about him occasionally when she walked along the beach.

Young Davy would've envied Shirley's hideaway, but of course he couldn't know. Mary was steady, reliable, and private. Shirley could depend on her to not tell even her own son Shirley's whereabouts.

Edna had told Shirley, "When we said we had to run an errand and didn't know when we'd be back, Mary just nodded and said she'd look after things, while Rosita had a dozen questions and Sabrina looked indifferent."

Frank and Edna took Shirley to a place she'd been before, a little over a month ago. She and Laverne had house-sat for Frank's boss, Cowboy Bill, the retired Western movie star who now owned a successful chain of fast food restaurants. Laverne had insisted on throwing a beach party at the Malibu mansion, against Shirley's better judgement. The party was a disaster, although there were no long-lasting consequences like those from the party at 900 Blue Jay Way in the Hollywood Hills. The girls had cleaned up enough that only Samson, Cowboy Bill's cockatoo, had given them away, and they were soon forgiven.

But that didn't mean that Cowboy Bill would agree to go stay at his Santa Barbara mansion for the next six weeks so Shirley could hide from reporters and fans. Even though Frank had been a loyal employee and a star student at Cowboy Bill's University (where he was now taking follow-up correspondence courses so he wouldn't have to take time away from the restaurant again), his plea to "give this little girl shelter" might not have been enough on its own.

It wasn't until Edna pointed out that Shirley met Derek at a Cowboy Bill's franchise and "we want to be able to carefully control our side of the publicity so it maximizes your profit," that the mogul agreed. He suggested that the happy couple renew their vows at the restaurant, or at least let him cater their reception. Edna was able to deflect this by saying that they could all discuss the matter when the band and their manager came back to LA in six weeks.

There were still three weeks left. Mary brought Shirley the postcards that Derek sent to the apartment and Laverne passed on. They were short on actual information and long on whimsy. Sometimes they were like rebuses, full of funny little drawings like he put on album covers. For instance:

My 🦌 Little⭐🙈,

👁️ miss 🐑. 👁️📏✌️🧹🐑👮✌️🅰️🏰. 🌊🐑🔛D🍸.

♥️,  
🏚️➖👅  


She'd puzzled over that until she translated it as, "My Dear Little Star Monkey, I miss you. I long to sweep you off [short for officer] to a castle. See you on the fifth. Love, Derek." She would've expected him to draw an oil derrick, but she was enough of a London's Bridges fan to know that his childhood nickname was Derry, or "derelict minus licked." (His family was Northern Irish, while the Feeneys were from the southern coast of Ireland, like the original Baltimore.). The hardest word to decipher was "fifth," because that looked more like a martini than a fifth of vodka.

She also had amused herself the last few weeks with crosswords that Mary brought her. She'd thought about jigsaws but didn't want to lose pieces in Cowboy Bill's spacious home. She also had Mary check out books on Mary's library card. Shirley thought about passing the time painting, but again, she didn't want to make a mess. She did have Mary bring her sketchbook and colored pencils, so Shirley had done some nice seascapes on her walks along the beach at the most deserted parts of the day.

Mary was her only contact with the outside world, in the sense that this was the only person that she now talked to. But Shirley did listen to the expensive radio and watch the pricy television set that Cowboy Bill owned. She often heard her husband's band on the radio, including their new release, "Surely, Shirley, This Must Be Love." And she watched them on _The Ed Sullivan Show_ last week. It was surreal to hear her husband and two men that Laverne had fooled around with singing cheery if cheeky pop songs. And when Ed encouraged Derek to blow her a kiss, she couldn't react like the more innocent Shirley of two months ago would've.

For one thing, she wasn't watching on the crappy set in her Burbank apartment, with Laverne to squeal and bounce on the blue couch next to her, like they were teens (OK, early-twentysomethings) who heard Fabian say "surely" and they could read things into that. For another, everything looked different to her after kissing Laverne.

She wasn't in love with Laverne. She just loved her dearly, and missed her throughout the day. She still wanted to work on her marriage to Derek, but she didn't know how she was going to live without Laverne.

The kisses were lovely and fun, but they were a goodbye, not a promise of a future. Shirley still wanted a husband, children, and dogs. She did know that Derek liked dogs, Welsh corgis being his favorite.

Mostly, she missed Laverne's companionship. It had been hard enough being separated the long twenty-four hours between Laverne running across the lawn to say goodbye to Lenny and the moment when Laverne jumped out of the ice cream truck to welcome the runaway bride home. And now Shirley spent long days alone, without Laverne to laugh and scheme with. Soon Shirley would go off to a brand new world, more foreign than Near Mexico, not just England but marriage and motherhood, fame and fortune. And she'd have to leave Laverne behind. Shirley had known this for weeks, but it sunk in the day she kissed Laverne goodbye. She used to idly speculate what would happen to their friendship if and when she married a doctor or other professional man, but that had been very hypothetical. She had promised herself that if she moved into the upper middle class, she wouldn't change towards her working-class friends. She would remain little Shirley Feeney from Knapp Street.

Now she was going to be a part of Swinging London, the city, not the person. Even if she was mostly a stay-at-home wife and mother, there would be parties and premieres occasionally. Perhaps she could befriend Cynthia Lennon and Maureen Starkey, or those American girls who married Benny & the Beefeaters.

Maybe she should try to matchmake Laverne with London or Malcolm. That way she and Laverne could explore that world together. Both men were obviously attracted to Laverne. Shirley would have ample opportunities to get to know both men and decide which one most deserved her dearest friend.

She was well aware that she most needed to get to know her husband. Sometimes she felt like she wanted to make a serious go of her marriage, despite its strange start. Other times, she felt like she could literally take or leave Derek.

"I don't know, Samson. Is there something I'm forgetting?" she asked as she put away the groceries and other items Mary had brought over that day. Shirley had freed the cockatoo from his cage her second night at the mansion, on the conditions that he not fly to freedom and he not relieve himself anywhere but in his cage or on the beach. In gratitude, he was as loyal as a dog, a dog who could echo her words back to her.

And sometimes Laverne's words. It was in a chirpier, less New-Yorky voice that Shirley now heard the phrase "Sonny and Carmine in tight little swim trunks."

Both men had looked hunkier than ever at the beach party. Shirley had flirtatiously told Carmine not to damage anything surfing that she would miss.

She blushed at Samson's quote. She wondered how Laverne felt about Sonny now, after less hunky but definitely cute distractions. (Even Lenny wasn't bad-looking, if you could get past his goofiness, as Laverne apparently sometimes could.)

As for Carmine, well. While Shirley loved him for his bravery, talent, devotion, and common sense, she couldn't deny that there had always been a physical side to the attraction. The truth was, she adored Carmine's physicality, his muscles and his grace. That man not only had a great body, but he knew how to move it.

It had taken tremendous willpower to resist him all these years, to draw the line of how much making out she could allow, although that line shifted back and forth, while never going below the waist. He wasn't the only one who had to take cold showers sometimes.

She did wonder what he would say if he knew that she'd never had a hymen. She hoped he'd understand that it was never about saving a thin piece of skin, but rather about waiting for the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. When she finally, fully made love, it should be with someone who could make love with her happily ever after.

Yet she couldn't help wishing sometimes that she could've been with Carmine, just once, just to know what it was like, what he was like.

"Come on, Samson, let's go for a walk."

He swooped down onto her outstretched right arm. That always made her feel like a medieval princess. As she carefully made her way down the redwood staircase, her other hand on the railing, she thought about the castle that Derek often mentioned. She knew by now that it wasn't just a romantic symbol but a genuine brick building that he hoped to buy with his wealth and place her in. Sometimes she imagined it as a gothic fortress where she'd be a short-haired Rapunzel, waiting for her guitarist prince to visit. Sometimes it was a modernistic den of decadence out of a Fellini film, where the jaded jet set would gather. And sometimes it looked like Wally Horowitz's Malibu mansion, transplanted to the English or maybe Irish West Coast, so she could look out across the Atlantic towards the life she left behind.

Shirley stepped onto the sand, still carefully balancing Samson on one arm, but now thinking of the upper-middle-class ranch-style homes that she used to dream of sharing with various kinds of doctors, children, and dogs. She looked up at the endless blue sky and out at its greener reflection, then down to the white bird. "Fly, Samson Sweetie. Fly as far as Japan if you need to, but just come back to me." 

The cockatoo nodded and then soared into the blue until he was just a white speck. Shirley could hear him heckling the seagulls as he passed them. She ran back upstairs for her sketchbook and pencils and drew until her right hand was tired. Then, like Carmine returning after some pretty girl had turned his head, Samson came back. Shirley hoped that Derek would show at least that much fidelity, and that she herself would.


	24. Chances Are

Laverne checked the mailbox when she got home from work. She half hoped that Derek had sent one of his funny postcards, with the puzzle messages. She could never resist reading them before passing them on to Mary the waitress to give to Shirley. She figured if he didn't want anyone else to see what he wrote, he'd send letters in sealed envelopes. Or maybe he guessed that a reporter or a fan or Laverne might unseal an envelope.

Shirley had been gone three weeks of the six until the band's return, and the frenzy had definitely died down. It used to be, Laverne would get off work and have to face crowds full of questions, waiting for her outside the department store as well as her apartment building. Even when she said she had no answers, they still asked. That didn't happen anymore, partly because she'd been fired from Bardwell's.

Mr. Hildebrand said it was because the unwanted attention was disrupting the smooth running of the store. Sometimes people didn't wait until the end of the day to badger Laverne. They'd show up at the gift-wrapping counter, pretending to be ordinary customers, but the giggles of the teenagers and the aggressiveness of the reporters would give them away.

"What is Shirley really like? Does she deserve Derek?"

"Do you really not know Mrs. DeWoods's whereabouts? Didn't she leave a note or anything?"

Always the same questions, so she tried to always give the same answers, like a well-rehearsed witness. Shirley was just a nice, normal girl, a little on the shy side, and needing time to adjust to the new world she'd landed in by falling in love with Derek. No, Shirley didn't leave a note, so she must've gone suddenly.

Laverne thought sometimes of forging a note, claiming it slipped under the bed and she found it while cleaning. But she decided it was better to leave it as a mystery with few clues. And she genuinely didn't know where Shirley was, although she had a clearer idea than she'd had the morning after the elopement. It had to be someplace a couple hours or less from Burbank, because Mary was a widow with a teenage son and a full-time job, and she couldn't be driving half a day once a week to bring Shirley groceries and mail and everything. It would have to be someplace isolated. Laverne usually imagined it as a cabin in the woods. Mary had taken Shirley's sketchbook and colored pencils. Laverne liked to think of Shirley drawing forest critters, an artistic Snow White, minus the dwarfs, waiting for her guitarist prince to come.

Shirley had always been better at being on her own. Laverne didn't even like eating in restaurants alone. Although she still had her pop and Edna and her other close friends from Milwaukee around her, she realized now how much she had come to take Shirley's presence for granted, whether Shirley was soothing her and talking sense, or over-reacting with worry or joy. All these years, they'd eaten meals together, worked together, slept a couple feet apart (or less) from each other. She missed laughing and arguing and just being with Shirley. No one, not even Edna, understood her so well.

Laverne felt rudderless without Shirley as her guiding star, to mix metaphors. It occurred to her sometimes that she could meet a cute guy and bring him home for a very late-night visit and there would be no Shirley to scold her, to drive him away, like she had to Ray, right before they moved to California, or to sit on the couch between Laverne and a hot date, like her old crush Pete that she got to go out with during his brief break-up with his long-term girlfriend. (Pete and Bea now had three and a half kids!)

Or Laverne could maybe pursue Lenny, who was conveniently just across the hall and still gave her puppy-dog eyes when they met. Shirley had sort of given her OK, and it wasn't like in Laverne's nightmare of being an ancient spinster, where if Laverne took Lenny then Shirley got stuck with Squiggy. But she knew that she couldn't just have a fling of convenience with Lenny. It wouldn't be fair to him, or to her, although she couldn't help being curious.

She didn't know what she'd do when Shirley was gone for good, not just an hour's drive or so away, but in another hemisphere. Yeah, they'd write letters, and Shirley could probably afford very long-distance phone calls, but it wouldn't be the same as sitting in the same room together.

That was partly what the kisses in the El Monte restroom had been about, a need to connect to Shirley before letting go. Yeah, there was definitely curiosity, about Shirley, about girls, but it wasn't like it was the start of something, more like the end.

And now she didn't even have the stability of Bardwell's. She supposed she could've begged for her job back, now that attention had shifted to newer show-biz gossip, but she didn't miss the job, other than the snazzy blazer. The Cowboy Bill's waitress uniform that she wore five days a week now was a lot less classy.

She was grateful of course to her pop for hiring her, especially when he already had three waitresses, not counting Edna. But this wasn't what Laverne wanted to do with her life. She promised herself that she'd seriously look for another job after London's Bridges came back to LA. Either Shirley would fly off into the sunset (or away from the sunset, since she'd be heading east) with Derek, or she'd decide to get an annulment and end up back in the Burbank apartment with Laverne. If so, then the two girls could look for work together, as they had back in '56, when they were a few months out of high school, grateful to get jobs as bottle-cappers at Shotz.

Laverne reached into her mailbox and was surprised to see two letters, not junk mail, both addressed to her. One was from Sonny in Italy and she felt a wave of desire and guilt. He felt so far away, not just geographically, because she'd gone through so much since he left and she couldn't tell him about any of it. Well, she'd written harmless little letters about the trivia of her life, nothing big. She knew she needed to talk seriously with him when he came back, which would be sometime after Derek and the other lads. At the same time, Laverne hadn't forgotten how sweet and gorgeous Sonny was and she wished she could just confess and be forgiven, picking up not where they left off but in an equally good place.

The other letter had no name or return address, although the postmark was New York City. She thought of her grandmother and other Brooklyn relatives, but they hardly ever wrote. She hoped it wasn't a poison pen letter, although she would've expected Shirley to get the hate mail for "stealing Derek" from his fans. Laverne was painting herself as the innocent bystander who just took her friend to a Hollywood party, but maybe someone had seen through that guise.

She went into her apartment and set the anonymous letter aside. She took a deep breath and then exhaled as she read Sonny's letter. It was a "Dear Jane" letter. It was kind and it was reasonable, but she couldn't get around the fact that he was dumping her long distance, and he hadn't even called so she could argue with him. Not that there was much she could say in her defense, but she would've liked to have tried. Yet Laverne knew that Sonny had never given her the give-and-take that she needed in a relationship, whether the yelling with her father, or the bickering with Shirley. Laverne wanted a guy who would push back, not a pushover or someone who would just walk away when things get tough. (Randy had been that way, too, and much as she'd loved him, she knew that there probably would've been problems once the lovey-doviness wore off.)

"Gee, it's just like old times," Carmine had teased as Laverne helped him carry his belongings upstairs while Sonny was on a movie set.

She'd played dumb. "Yeah, you living upstairs from me and Shirley again."

"Especially me living with a tall, muscular guy who looks a lot like a certain cousin of yours."

Antonio had stayed with Carmine, paying half the rent on the small apartment with his zoo salary. She'd known Carmine would immediately see the resemblance, although he had waited until they were alone to mention it.

Squiggy was not that discreet. Sonny had hardly left the girls' apartment after being the first to go bankrupt in a Monopoly game before Squiggy nudged Lenny and said, "Don't he remind you of someone?"

"Marlon Brando? No, Tony Curtis!"

"I'm talkin' about her," he pointed at Laverne, "cousin Anchovio."

"Oh yeah! The Italian guy. I mean from Italy. That was sweet of you girls to give him that going-away gift, the Goat Chow the old tenants left behind."

Laverne was momentarily distracted by memories of when she and Shirley first moved into the basement apartment, after getting the jobs at Shotz. She remembered Lenny and Squiggy showing up, for the first of hundreds of times, and Lenny saying, in his still cracking 18-year-old voice, "I defile you to look into my eyes and tell me you can resist me, Laverne." So she'd looked into his eyes and defiantly said she could resist him. Then he'd happily told Squiggy, "She'll do whatever I tell her to!"

"Looks like Laberne wants to commit incense, the way she was blowing on his dice for luck and everything."

Lenny obligingly chortled and bit his hand, but later in the game, when he gave her the best in a trade (his two greens for her two railroads), she thought she caught a look of jealousy and concern.

When the boys went home, Squiggy glorying in his triumph, Laverne had asked, "Shirl, do you think Sonny looks like Antonio?" She half expected Shirley to scold her about "smut with relatives," like the time she found out that Laverne had played doctor (a much less violent, more affectionate version of the game that Shirley would later agree to with Lenny and Squiggy, while Laverne wanted to play jacks instead) with her cousin Anthony in Brooklyn. (Anthony and Antonio were named after a mutual great-great-grandfather.)

Shirley kept looking down at the money, tokens, Chance cards, and everything she was carefully putting back into their places in the box. "Well, maybe a little, but it's not like he's actually your cousin."

Laverne nodded and decided it was OK, although there were moments, especially when things got more physical with Sonny, that she felt guilty or uncomfortable.

"Who, Antonio? Maybe a little," she told Carmine a couple weeks later.

"Maybe a lot. If I were you, I wouldn't show him your family album."

He knew she didn't have a family album, and she had taken the precaution of removing the pictures of the gang visiting Antonio at the Milwaukee County Zoo from one of Shirley's "Knapp Street Neighbors" albums. (Laverne had recently been clipping the articles she saw about Shirley, in case her friend wanted to start a new album about her married life.) Carmine was good about not saying anything in front of Sonny, and the boys knew that Laverne would never forgive them if they did. As for Shirley, she had been instantly attracted to Antonio when they met, as Laverne had when he was just a gorgeous guy sleeping on their couch, but Shirley thought Sonny was good for Laverne and she hadn't interfered this time.

Not that it mattered anymore. It was over with Sonny, and Laverne had no way to fight for him, if she even wanted to. She couldn't afford to call him long distance, and if she wrote to him, well, she'd have to confess to cheating on him with a wide variety of people who looked nothing like him, including Shirley. She would miss Sonny but it probably wasn't going to work out anyway.

She sighed and set aside his letter, wishing she could share it with Shirley. She cautiously took up the other letter, then flipped it over to see "S.W.A.K." along the flap. Great, now she was getting creepy love letters just because she was the roommate of a girl who eloped with a rock & roll star. She considered calling Carmine so she wouldn't have to open it alone, but then she'd have to get into the whole thing about Sonny, as well as his questions about Shirley's whereabouts. (She'd left her pop and Edna out of it, so he wouldn't grill them.)

She carefully opened the envelope and saw a short letter from London. She knew it was him not just from the handwriting that she recognized from album covers and photos of his signature, but because he knew about the jolly room in a way that only Edna did. (Carmine thought, based on what Malcolm told him, that she'd smoked a reefer in the john, and she let him think that, rather than the more embarrassing truth. Lenny and Squiggy knew she'd had sex with London because London told Squiggy, but the boys didn't know what room it had happened in. And Laverne hadn't wanted to go into detail with Shirley, for a lot of reasons.)

As for his offer to start things up on a serious basis, she didn't know how she felt. Yeah, the sex wasn't great but it hadn't been the best of circumstances. Maybe she'd end up really liking London if she got to know him. Maybe she would end up marrying him. If Shirley stayed with Derek, then Laverne could be part of her life again.

Laverne reminded herself that she still had unresolved feelings about Derek, even though all they'd done was hold hands. She'd felt jealous when he blew Shirley a kiss on _The Ed Sullivan Show_ , and of course there was the new hit single, "Surely, Shirley." (Or was it "Shirley, Surely"?) Sometimes she felt like Shirley had the life that Laverne was supposed to have. If only Laverne hadn't gone to say goodbye to Lenny.

At the same time, she didn't totally trust Derek. She knew better than anyone except Carmine what a wonderful girl Shirley was, but she also knew that Shirley's wonderfulness wasn't immediately apparent. You had to get to know her to appreciate her, and she wasn't the kind of girl that men fell in love at first sight with. Especially not men who had seen the world and met hundreds, maybe thousands of women. Laverne was wary about London for the same reason, although he was offering her less and she couldn't help being flattered.

Well, the lads would be in town in three weeks and maybe she and Shirley could talk it all over again. In the meantime, Laverne would muddle through on her own, with a little help from three Knapp Street boys.


	25. Fasten Your Seatbelts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains shifting perspectives

"Where's Shirley?" Carmine demanded, still dressed in a clown suit.

"I told you, Derek and London are due at seven and she'll be here around 6:30." Laverne hadn't changed out of her work clothes yet either, and she wished Carmine would leave so she'd be wearing a cuter outfit than the cowgirl waitress uniform when the special guests arrived. But she understood that Carmine wanted to talk to Shirley before Derek showed up and took her away for good.

"How's she getting here?" Carmine asked.

"I don't know," Laverne admitted, although she had a theory it would be with Mary, since the blonde waitress left work early that day, supposedly for a school play her son was in.

"Hi-ho, it's Rhonda."

"Hi, Rhonda," they both said irritably. Neither of them wanted to deal with her just then, Carmine because he was focused on Shirley, Laverne because this evening was going to be dramatic enough. She had at least forgiven Rhonda for being with Sonny before Laverne had met either of them. It seemed unimportant now that Sonny had dumped Laverne.

Despite Carmine's annoyance with Rhonda, she definitely got his attention when she went over to the girls' balcony. Not the back view, although that was more stunning than anything that could be seen from the balcony, even with Rhonda in the surprisingly casual outfit of a T-shirt and jeans, both admittedly skintight, at least on her. No, it was what Rhonda said that caught his attention: "The view is better from your apartment than Rhonda's and I want to see who's in that limo."

Carmine looked at Laverne, who seemed almost as surprised as he was. Were the musicians early? Maybe Carmine could talk to this DeWoods guy, get a sense of him. Almost nobody could be good enough for Shirley, but Carmine hoped at least her husband wasn't bad for her.

"Oh, never mind. It's just Shirley." Rhonda sighed in disappointment and then sashayed out as quickly as she'd arrived.

They both said, "Bye, Rhonda," but Carmine was the only one who raced to the balcony. By the time he got there, however, the limo was driving away.

Shirley refused the chauffeur's offer to carry in her bag. She didn't have all that much in there. She'd had Mary bring only a handful of outfits, since she hardly saw anyone in Malibu and she had access to a washer and dryer anytime she wanted, rather than having to walk to the laundromat. She did ask for her checkerboard outfit, because she thought Derek would like it, but she was wearing it rather than carrying it.

She went into the building, wondering who was home on a Friday evening. Laverne would be of course, since Shirley had had Mary tell her when to expect her, after Derek had written when he'd arrive in Burbank. Shirley and Laverne hadn't communicated directly since their quick goodbye in front of Laverne's parents in El Monte. They'd agreed it was better this way, so Laverne could more easily pretend to know nothing about Shirley's mysterious disappearance. It made Shirley miss Laverne more, but it was for the best. She wished they would now have time to truly catch up. Shirley's six weeks on her own had been uneventful, but Laverne's couldn't have been.

For one thing, Laverne had been fired from Bardwell's, which Shirley felt bad about, although she'd try to make it up to her. For another, even in her isolation, Shirley had been aware of Laverne being besieged by fans and reporters, although that seemed to have died down. It had been surreal, in a different way than when she'd heard her husband sing about her, the time she had turned on Cowboy Bill's huge color set and seen a nervous but wisecracking Laverne explain for probably the hundredth time, "I don't know where she is, but I'm sure she'd love to trade places with me right now."

It reminded Shirley a little of how she and Laverne had been interviewed for local news about the 1960 presidential election, their first. They were 22 and excited about being able to vote for a man as young and handsome, as witty and intelligent as John Kennedy, Irish like Shirley, Catholic like Laverne.

Shirley cried a little now, thinking of the tragic loss of JFK. She was wiping away a tear when she opened her unlocked door.

"Angel Face!" Carmine called with longing and concern, which just made her cry harder.

"Shirl?"

"Oh, Vernie, I was just thinking of Jack Kennedy."

Laverne didn't question it, maybe because the second anniversary of the assassination was that month. She gave Shirley a tearful hug, both of them thinking of how young they'd been five years before, when they let two Nixon-supporting college boys lure them to a bus station in Oshkosh.

Carmine decided he would never really understood women. Why were they crying over Kennedy at a time like this? Maybe Shirley had realized she wouldn't be able to vote in the '68 election, since her marriage and residency would make her a British citizen. But why cry about it now?

The girls went upstairs to fix their makeup, so Carmine was the one to answer the front door when the bell rang.

"That was nice of Cowboy Bill to send you home in a limo," Laverne said as she and her roommate shared a bathroom mirror for what might be the last time.

Shirley sighed as she cleaned off her runny mascara. "Yes, it was but I was worried that there would be a flock of reporters waiting outside the apartment building."

"Nah, all that's died down for now."

"Still, I would've rather have gotten a ride from Mary, but of course Davy has his school play tonight."

Laverne nodded and was about to say something about Mary, when the doorbell rang. The girls looked at each other and they were both thinking that the lads were early and Carmine should not be the one to play host to them.

"Do I look all right?" Shirley asked.

"You look bee-utiful," Laverne said, because Shirley did.

"Thanks, Vernie." There was so much Shirley wanted to say, but there wasn't time.

"If those are reporters," Laverne said, as they left the bathroom, "is it OK if I punch them?", making Shirley laugh.

Carmine hadn't had time to do more than introduce himself, apologize for the outfit he'd worn to deliver a singing telegram at a circus birthday party, shake the hands of the two young men in suits and ties, and say, "The girls will be down soon." He looked up and saw both Laverne and Shirley smiling nervously from the head of the short staircase.

"Shirley!" exclaimed Derek, as London murmured, "Laverne."

Then Derek said, "Sorry we're unfashionably early, Shirley, but there's a party we have to be unfashionably late to. So we'll just check in with our manager and then we've got a table for four at the Four Seasons restaurant, so we don't just fill up on party snacks later."

"Like brownies?" Carmine couldn't help saying.

All four of them looked self-conscious, which made Carmine wonder if the Brits had known about the dessert's special ingredient at the time or only realized later.

"Um, I should change," Laverne said, looking down at her waitress uniform.

"You're perfect as you are," London said gallantly, making Carmine want to gag.

"Yes, I've never seen a lovelier pair," Derek said, and Carmine wasn't sure he meant the two girls, since his eyes seemed to be aimed at the cowgirl blouse.

With timing that wasn't quite as sharp as usual, Squiggy burst through the door that London had closed behind him a couple minutes ago, Lenny straggling behind like he for once really didn't want to follow his best friend. Squiggy was dressed in his full "manager" outfit, with cape, top hat, etc., but Lenny had just put on a tie with hand-painted gold stars, leaving on his jeans and Hawaiian shirt. He hadn't even bothered with shoes, just argyle socks. "Hello," Squiggy said, this time to the two foreign visitors.

"Um, hello," London and Derek both said, while both Shirley and Laverne had _Not now, Boys_ expressions on their faces.

Squiggy shook both men's hands and said, "I don't know if you remember me, but my partner and I own the Squignowski Talent Agency of Burbank."

"STAB," Lenny mumbled.

"Exactly, and since you, Mr. DeWords, will now be moving to America to be with your lively bride, I think it's time you had American reprehensation."

The rock & roll stars looked stunned speechless, so Shirley knew it was up to her to speak. "Derek is going to buy a castle," she said as she came down the short flight of steps. "In England. Or maybe Ireland."

"Ireland?" Derek mouthed, and she realized that was one of the things they needed to discuss.

Squiggy barrelled on, "Well, yes, after you establish residualcy here, and you save enough on taxes to buy a castle, but you'll have to maintrain a home here in the States."

Carmine and the girls stared at him, while the Brits suddenly looked very self-conscious, and Lenny's discomfort increased. "Taxes?" Carmine repeated.

"Yeah," Squiggy said, seeming, as he often did, oblivious to other people's moods, "when Lenny went back to get his scarf from the gabezo, I overheard this guy," he pointed at London, "talking to Niggle about how he and Eric DeWords planned to marry Laberne and Shirley to become American clitizens to save a bundle in taxes, and Malcontent's special brownies were supposed to help with that, but Loudon had to give Shirley up to Eric because of the castle, so Loudon would have to play the long game with the slag."

The girls really stared at Squiggy now, while Carmine was ready to punch both Brits.

"Is he talking about Nigel?" Derek asked London.

"Nigel Cranshaw, the Quiet One, five foot eight, eight and a half stones, he sleeps in a water bed and wears glasses for drumming and driving," Shirley murmured as if in a dream.

"You're taking that completely out of context," London told Squiggy.

Laverne came downstairs, looking like she wanted to hit London herself. "And what does 'slag' mean?"

"Er, it's a lovely bird."

"Nah, I asked Rhonda and she said it's, well, since we're in fixed company, let's just say it's English for 'floozy.' "

"You can't talk that way about Laverne!" Lenny threatened, the lion of his name suddenly awakening in him.

"Hey," Squiggy said defensively, "I'm just repeating what Rhonda said."

Then Shirley proved herself a bad hostess by slapping both foreign guests' faces hard enough to leave marks. "You lied to me! You lied to Laverne! And you lied to America!"

Squiggy shifted gears quickly, perhaps realizing that Shirley's marriage was on the rocks. "America and these two innocent young girls welcomed you with open limbs. Sirs, you give the British Invasion a bad name! Now let's talk alimony."

"I'm not going to pay a tuppence to a bird I didn't even shag," Derek said.

"You didn't tell me you didn't consummate! You complete prat!" London exclaimed.

"At least I married her. I didn't shag her in the jolly room and let her scarper off."

Laverne now looked more embarrassed than angry, which was saying something.

Squiggy nodded sagely. "It's like Rhonda always says, get it in writing."

"Who the hell is Rhonda?" both rock & roll stars demanded.

"Hi-ho!" said the buxom blonde waving over the half-open Dutch door in the kitchen.


	26. Starting Over

Carmine noticed that, unlike himself or Laverne, Rhonda had changed her outfit, for what seemed to be a Gay '90s beach costume, parasol and all.

Laverne sounded more annoyed than surprised as she said, "Rhonda, this really isn't a good time."

"Hasn't Squiggy had a chance to pitch the movie yet?"

"I was getting to that. Gentlemen, I have a brilliantined concept for your motive picture, and Miss Rhonda Lee is going to be your leading lady!"

Rhonda struck a coy pose.

Derek DeWoods and London looked understandably stunned. If Carmine weren't quietly furious at them, he would've been both sympathetic and amused.

Derek found his voice first. "Er, _Falling Down_ is coming out next week."

"I know, I read the trade papers. I'm talking about the next one."

"You want us to make a deal with you?" London said in disbelief. "After what you just did?"

"Well, you don't want Titmore coming after you, do you?"

Both foreign guests understandably looked at Rhonda, who said, "He means Ted Tidmore. He met you, London, in London."

The blond musician again looked self-conscious, making Carmine wonder what scandals Rhonda's casual boyfriend, the tabloid publisher who'd moved from England to California, was covering up.

"You wouldn't like him to print stories about reefer and jolly rooms or the real reason you wanted to marry American girls, would you?" Squiggy asked casually, as if he weren't threatening blackmail.

"Can we discuss this," London glanced at the girls, "in private?"

Rhonda stepped through the kitchen doorway again and said, "Gentlemen, let's adjourn to my office."

Squiggy clearly included himself in this, since he went over to Rhonda, calling over his shoulder, "Lenny, get your guitar. I want them to hear the theme song."

Lenny glanced at Laverne, who was looking at the brick wall, then he said, "Uh, I'll catch up with you later, Squig."

"Scoot yourself," Squiggy said and exited after Rhonda.

London looked like he wanted to talk to Laverne, but she wouldn't turn away from the wall. He sighed and went out the back way.

His best mate looked at Shirley, who was playing with the phone cord, like she was going to call Edna, or the police. "You can keep the postcards," he said, before exiting the apartment.

Neither girl made eye contact with Carmine, so he looked at Lenny. He remembered Lenny a couple months ago, with that surprising insight he had sometimes, pointing out the similarities between them, each man following a woman he loved halfway across the country, only to have her get tangled up with a British rock band. Lenny looked like he wasn't sure what to do or say, and Carmine shared that uncertainty, although he was less comfortable with that discomfort.

Then Laverne went over to the wall to remove a brick. Both men grinned, because they knew that this brick covered a peephole into Rhonda's bedroom, with its heart-shaped waterbed and mirrored ceiling.

"Laverne!" Shirley scolded.

Laverne put the brick back and turned to look sheepishly at her best friend. "It's good to have you back."

"Yes, you're stuck with me for awhile."

Laverne looked like she was going to go over and hug Shirley again, probably just as tearfully as when they cried over Kennedy less than half an hour ago, but then she looked at Lenny and her eyes narrowed. "How long have you known?" 

"I swear he told me right before we came over."

"Two months, Leonard," Shirley said in disbelief. "He kept what he overheard to himself for two months. What was he thinking?"

Lenny shrugged. "Even though he's my best friend, I don't pretend to know how his mind works. He's got so many schemes, it's like he's playing three-dimensional chess."

"He's the smart one," Carmine said, not entirely sarcastically.

"Exactly. I think he figured this could go lots of ways, and he wanted to rope the benefits no matter what."

"He must've told Rhonda," Laverne pointed out. "The way _The Peeper_ broke the news and the parasol and 'slag' and everything."

"I'm really sorry you had to go through all this, Laverne, both you girls, but I gotta say...." Lenny broke into a grin again. "Shirl, I've seen a lot of slapping in my life, but those were the two most beautiful slaps I've ever witnessed, even at the movies!"

For the second time in less than half an hour, Shirley burst into tears. This time, Carmine took her into his arms and let her teardrops fall on his clown suit.

Lenny looked stricken and confused. "It was a compliment, especially considering how dainty and lady-like you are. You can still be a tough little broad when you need to be."

Carmine couldn't help chuckling, and he could feel Shirley smiling a little against his neck. "Thank you, Leonard. I just, I'm a little overwhelmed right now."

"Come on, Angel Face," Carmine said, leading her out the still open front door. He didn't look back at Lenny and Laverne, but he knew they needed a chance to talk alone almost as much as he and Shirley did. He took Shirley's hand and they went silently up to his apartment. It was the first time she'd been inside since Sonny left, and it definitely felt different to have her over now. Still, he had to ask, "Is it OK if I take off my clothes?"

Her plucked black eyebrows went up as she said, "Well, Carmine, shouldn't I at least have a little mourning period for my failed marriage?"

He shook his head and took off the pointed red pom-pommed hat. "I just don't want to have this conversation looking like a clown."

"Why not? I look like a fool."

"You look like a sweet girl who trusted the wrong guy," he said, as he kicked off his white dance slippers.

She shook her head. "Three wrong guys: Derek, London, and Malcolm."

"Hey, at least 'Niggle' let you play his drums," he said, as he undid the white neck ruffle.

"If only that was the worst thing I did as a reefer zombie."

He shrugged out of the top half of his baggy blue suit and said, "We all make mistakes, and you haven't done anything we can't fix."

"Yes," she said, and licked her lips, then swallowed.

He was aware of her eyes on his chest and arms as his undershirt was exposed, but he just smiled to himself and pretended not to notice, as he revealed the Bermuda shorts of his lower half. He draped the clown suit over a chair and went to join Shirley on the couch that Sonny had picked up at a thrift store shortly after moving to Hollywood and might never see again. (Laverne of course wouldn't talk much about the breakup and all Sonny said, in his letter asking Carmine to become the permanent building manager, was that he'd met Antonio DeFazio and felt funny about dating Laverne now.)

Carmine took Shirley's hand as she rested her head against his shoulder. "Angel Face."

"Pookie Bear."

He chuckled. "Uh, you're a married lady, you know."

"Technically, yes. For now."

"I'm glad you can get an annulment. Rosita can help you with that."

She nodded and sighed. "I'll call her tomorrow."

"Um, Shirl?"

"Yes, Carmine?"

"Were you surprised when Derek said you didn't, um?"

She raised her head and looked at him with her big blue eyes. "No, I saw a doctor right before I went into hiding."

"Oh." He kind of wished he'd known before, although she had mentioned the possibility.

"Carmine, is there something wrong with me?"

"With you? Of course not."

"Then why didn't he...? I mean, not that he should've taken advantage of me in that condition, but he could've tried the next morning."

Carmine shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he figured the important thing was to marry you and he could, um, consummate later."

"Like at the Four Seasons Hotel after dinner?"

"Yeah, maybe." Also, London probably planned to lure Laverne up to his room, and maybe propose to her this time.

Shirley sighed. "It's just, well, if I were Rhonda, he'd probably have done something."

"If you were Rhonda, he wouldn't have needed the brownies."

She didn't laugh but instead asked, "Do you think that's what Squiggy is up to? Trying to matchmake Rhonda with London or Derek?"

He thought it was more likely that Squiggy was using Rhonda as willing bait for his movie, but he just said, "Three-dimensional chess," which made her laugh. Then he squeezed her hand and said, "You are very sexy, Shirley Feeney, and your real husband is going to prove that to you someday."

She kissed him on the mouth for the first time in two months. She tasted as sweet as he remembered.

He could've reminded her that she was technically cheating on her unreal husband, but he thought Derek deserved it. He kissed back and stroked her hair.

After the kiss, she startled him by whispering, "I'd like you to prove it, Pookie Bear."


	27. It's Only Love

"Are you serious about getting serious, Shirley?"

"Yes, Carmine. I love you and I want you to be my first."

"I'm really flattered, Angel Face, but don't you want to wait until you're officially single again? I mean, what happened to your mourning period?"

"I'm done grieving and I'm OK with a little adultery, if you are."

He chuckled nervously and asked, "But why tonight, when your husband probably hasn't even left the building yet?"

She'd been thinking about this ever since Derek headed to Rhonda's apartment, without an apology and with the offer to keep his postcards, like she was just a fan. "I've been living a lie for two months, someone else's lie. I need to feel something real."

"Oh, Angel Face!"

This time their kiss was passionate, and for once she wasn't going to worry about going too far. Soon they were necking like in high school, but this time her hand wandered under his undershirt, and she didn't stop him from unzipping the back of her red-and-black-checked minidress. She bit her lower lip as she stroked his broad, muscular chest and he peeled down her dress, exposing her pink push-up bra.

She hadn't bothered with her figure enhancers, since Derek had already seen her naked and knew what her bosom looked like without socks. Carmine knew, too, although he hadn't back in high school.  


He had more technique than when he was younger, and she didn't entirely mind that he'd practiced on other women, although not in California. She'd never expected him to save himself for her, especially not when she was saving herself for a doctor.  


"Shirley," he said as he expertly unhooked and removed her bra, "I want to ask you a few questions before we take this too far to be able to talk rationally."  


She loved his common sense, although at that moment she wanted to be swept away by passion. "All right." 

"First of all, I'm assuming that you're not on the Pill or anything. Or is that why you went to see the doctor?" 

"No, we didn't discuss birth control." Shirley hadn't then known whether things would work out with Derek, but she'd figured if they didn't, she wouldn't need protection. And if they did, well, maybe Derek would want to start a family. 

"OK. And are you still hoping to marry a doctor someday?" 

She shook her head. "All that matters is that my husband and I love each other and are good for each other." 

"In that case." He set her bra on the couch and slid down to the floor. He took her hand again and asked, "Shirley Feeney DeWoods, will you marry me? When you're no longer Mrs. DeWoods obviously." 

It had occurred to her that he might propose, but she'd imagined them both being more dressed than this. Still, she said, "Yes, Carmine!" with all her heart. 

He grinned up at her and said, "Your nipples just hardened." 

Her first "Carmine" was scolding, but the next dozen were not, as he caressed and kissed her nipples. Then he stopped and said, "You must be really cold, Shirl. I'd better tuck you into a nice, warm bed." 

She giggled but she got to her feet, the dress slithering off of her like a snake's shed skin. She stood shyly before him in her pink panties, white stockings, and black flats. 

He looked up at her and then down and up again, like she was the most beautiful girl in the world. "Madonna mi!" he whispered in reverence. 

"Do you want to practice for our honeymoon?" she whispered back seductively. 

Her dancer boyfriend agilely leapt to his feet and smoothly scooped her into his arms. She giggled more as he carried her off to the bedroom he'd shared with Sonny for a couple months. He gently set her down on his bed, took her flats off, then lay beside her, his warm brown eyes looking at her sweetly yet hungrily. 

"I love you, Shirley." 

"I love you, Carmine." 

They made out horizontally, and she still didn't worry that it was going too far, too fast. Neither of them would take a cold shower that night. 

She was soon aware of the growing bulge in his Bermuda shorts. She let her hand cup it gently, wanting to feel that hardness in a way that she hadn't wanted to feel Derek's. 

He drew his breath in sharply. "Oh, shi— Shirl!" 

"I want it, Carmine," she admitted, trying not to feel like a floozy. 

"Oh, Baby, I really want you, but we both have to get ready." 

"You feel ready to me," she said, lightly stroking the bulge through the cloth. 

He chuckled, although his voice sounded a little hoarse as he gently moved her hand away and said, "In a way, yeah. But if I get you in trouble when you're hoping for an annulment, that's going to complicate everything even further." 

She blushed and mumbled, "I'm sorry I didn't get birth control." 

"It's OK, Angel Face, I got this." He got out of bed and went over to a dresser. She couldn't help ogling his behind in the Bermudas as he bent over to take something out of the bottom drawer. "Something tells me that Sonny is not coming back for these," he said as he straightened up. He returned to the bed with a box of Trojan condoms. 

She blushed more and nodded. "Can I watch you put it on?" 

"You don't want to put it on me?" he teased, as he took off his Bermuda shorts to reveal boxer shorts underneath. 

"I don't want to do it wrong," she admitted. 

"My little perfectionist," he said with a head-shake and a smile. Then the boxer took off his boxers. 

"Luckily you're perfect," she murmured, making him blush. 

Neither of them spoke as he put the condom on and then got back into bed. Then they necked as she played with him, until he said, "We still have to get you ready." 

"I'm ready, Carmine, I swear." 

He lightly kissed her forehead. "You're ready here." He caressed her left breast. "And here." His other hand went between her legs. "But not here." 

"I know the first time isn't easy for the girl, but, Carmine, I have to tell you something." 

His hand hesitated on her panties. "What?" he asked warily. 

"The doctor said I was born without a hymen." 

Carmine stared at her for a moment and then started laughing hysterically. 

She slapped his shoulder. "It's not funny!" 

Trying to control his laughter, he said, "It's a little funny." 

"OK, maybe a little." 

He kissed her cheek and said, "I'm sorry, Baby, but this is such a relief. I want your first time to be good and this means one less thing to worry about." 

She nodded and kissed his neck. "I know you'll be good. You're good at making out." 

"Thank you. So are you." He sat up and eased down her panties, saying, "I'm going to leave the stockings, if it's OK. They're very Shirley-sexy." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know," he said, lying next to her again, "classy and girlish and irresistible." 

"Oh, Pookie Bear!" 

"Uh, Shirl, not that I don't like that pet name, but not in bed, OK?" 

"Yes, Big Ragoo," she said, taking his manhood into both her hands. 

"Fare impazzire!" he exclaimed. 

"You're very Italian tonight." 

"You bring it out in me." 

"What does that saying mean?" 

"You drive me crazy." 

"I'm sorry." 

"No, you're not," he said, as his hand slid back between her legs. 

He got her ready. She'd never touched herself, thinking that nice girls didn't, so she wasn't prepared for the intense and wonderful feelings he introduced her to. When he mounted her and slid his manhood into her womanhood, the feelings somehow intensified. 

"How's that?" 

"Oh, Carmine, it's so, wow!" 

He chuckled. "Yeah, it is." 

For awhile he supported himself with his muscular arms, teasing and stroking her. But when she did a Shirley shimmy with her whole body, he gasped and put his whole weight on her, which was just what she wanted. Now she could play with his curly hair, kiss his handsome face, and fondle his compact but sturdy body all at once, while he thrust deep inside her, again and again. 

She knew that this was something he'd wanted for years, even though he'd been with other women. He'd been so good and patient and this was his reward. So while he kept checking in with her to make sure she was enjoying this, he also would have moments of greedily taking her, which excited her as much as his considerateness. 

This time when the bliss overtook her, she cried Carmine's name with her whole soul, like he had shown her a secret side of herself. She rolled her hips like she was Roxy LaTour. He gasped her name, half in shock, half in loss of control. He got really fast and then he lay on her in silent stillness. 

"Sweetie, are you OK?" she asked, stroking his hair and his back. 

"I should be asking you that." 

"I'm good." 

"You're wonderful!" 

She would realize, looking back on it later, that it was during the soul kiss between voe-dee-oh-doe and his withdrawing so he could throw away the condom that she truly fell in love with Carmine Ragusa. He still wanted to make out with her even after they'd done so much more, and he tasted as sweet as ever. 

He cuddled her when he came back to bed, and she put her head on his shoulder. After a minute, he asked, "Do you want to sleep over?" 

"Yes," she admitted, "but what would Laverne say?" 

"I think Laverne is a little distracted right now." 

"Um, did she talk to you about her and Lenny?" 

"No, but he told me the morning after the party." 

She frowned. "She waited a couple weeks to tell me." 

"Yeah, well, you know them. He wears his heart on his sleeve a lot more than she does." 

She nodded and then sighed. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, Mr. DeFazio even talked to me about it last week." 

"He knows about the party?" 

"No, no, but he said to me, 'What the hell's going on with Laverne and Lenny?' " 

"Good imitation." 

"Thanks, years of study. So I asked him what he meant, and he said, 'Lemme tell you a story.' I asked if it was about Anzio, and he said, 'No, it's not about the war. It's about fifteen years ago when a tall, skinny, blond kid from the neighborhood started coming into the Pizza Bowl every day one summer. He usually palled around with the little black-haired punk but he was alone.' "

Shirley nodded. "Squiggy was away at camp that summer." 

"I guess. Anyway, Mr. DeFazio went on, 'He's sittin' at a table, every day, staring at my 12-year-old daughter in the waitress uniform she insisted on putting a big L on. Finally, I said to him, "Look, if you're gonna make goo-goo eyes at my daughter, at least order somethin'." So he took some change out of his pocket and ordered a Pepsi. Laverne brought it to him with milk of course, but he drank the whole thing. He was my most loyal customer that summer. Then a few weeks ago, it starts up again, him making goo-goo eyes at her at Cowboy Bill's, only now he's smart enough to try to hide behind a menu a little.' "

Shirley could picture it, the Lenny Kosnowski of 1950, clumsy as he tried to adjust to his sudden gangliness, his voice quiet to hide that it was beginning to crack, his heart and other body parts filled with feelings towards Laverne that he couldn't yet understand or disguise. And preteen, training-braed Laverne would've wisecracked and teased him, unaware that that would've made him fall even harder for her. The Lenny of '65 was more poised, less clumsy, but still that boy who was more starved for love than for pizza. 

"I told her she needs to figure how she feels about him, but, well, you know Laverne and her feelings." 

"Yeah. So you gave her your blessing?" 

"Not exactly, but Lenny adores her and he'll be good to her, so if she wants him, then I'm happy for them." 

He kissed her cheek. "Me, too." 

"To answer your question, yes, I want to sleep over." 

He grinned. "Great, I'll bring you breakfast in bed tomorrow." 

"Carmine, you're a terrible cook." 

"So we'll order in. What time does Cowboy Bill's open?" 

She gagged at the thought of a breakfast burrito, and he laughed. Then they kissed and fell asleep wrapped up in each other and the blankets, not unlike a burrito.


	28. The Word

Lenny closed the front door after Carmine led Shirley out. Then he went over to the foot of the girls' staircase. Laverne waited to see if he was going to step down into the living room, but when he didn't, she walked closer, so that she was in front of the couch. She thought of asking him to sit next to her, but she didn't know where this was going, or where she wanted it to go. She was still reeling from Squiggy's revelations.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with London."

She shook her head. "I never really wanted him."

He frowned. "I know, you wanted Derek."

"No, you big dope, I wanted you, but you passed out."

"Yeah," he said just as irritably, "after we made each other come."

"With our hands. But I wanted all of you, penis and everything."

"Well, I've been right under your nose all this time, penis and everything."

They stared at each other, both a little in shock that they'd said the word "penis" to each other. Then she stopped looking and ran over to him. She leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his back.

He swayed in surprise and from the physical weight of her impact. Unlike London, he had no sink to brace himself against. She reminded herself that he wasn't the most graceful of men under the best of circumstances, and she visualized him falling to the floor, maybe on top of her. Not that the idea of his body on hers was unpleasant, even on the floor, but she wouldn't have enjoyed the falling and landing. Plus, considering the traffic in her apartment, someone was likely to walk in on them in that compromising position.

He put one arm around her back and the other under her heiney. His swaying slowed to a gentle rocking. "Uh, your place or mine?" he managed to joke.

"Len, you sleep in a bunk bed."

"Yeah, but the top bunk."

She shook her head and he let out a little moan at the way her un-sprayed hair brushed against his neck. She remembered that even when he wasn't stoned, he was incredibly sensitive. She nuzzled his neck and whispered, "My place is closer," meaning she wanted to make out on the couch for awhile.

He groaned and then gasped, "All those stairs! I don't want to drop you." He softly kissed her hair.

He wanted to carry her up to her bedroom. She held him tighter and murmured, "I trust you."

He kissed her on the lips but a soft, gentle little kiss like you'd give a baby's boom-boom. "I trust you, too."

She wanted to tell him he shouldn't, that as one of his best friends, she had to warn him against getting involved with a girl like her. But then his arms tightened around her, and she was very aware of his hand on her bottom, so she just nodded, feeling the happy shudder her hair swishing against his sensitive neck sent through his whole body, and thus her own.

She wanted to neck with him, but she did her best not to further distract him as he slowly and carefully carried her up the short flight of steps that she'd descended not fifteen minutes ago, with very different feelings. She reminded herself that he had been waiting for this a lot longer than she had. At last, he reached the landing and she was glad that she and Shirley had left the bedroom door open. She couldn't help thinking that he was carrying her over the threshold, but not in the traditional way. Then again, it wasn't their wedding night.

She nudged the door shut behind them. He set her on her bed, which luckily was the one closer to the door. She expected him to lie next to her but he straightened up and said, "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she asked in confusion, especially since she could see how hard he was in his jeans.

"To get us snacks. Women are hungrier after sex."

She remembered him making that claim when he and Squiggy were going to run a diner that they ended up handing off to her and Shirley. It was sometimes true of her, although she was generally hungry anyway. She reached out for the tip of his tie and pulled him closer to her by it, a technique she'd seen in a lot of movies and thought was sexy, although she'd never tried it and she didn't want to choke him. "Satisfy one of my appetites at a time, Len," she said, with a mix of seductiveness, amusement, and plain-speaking.

"So sexy, Laverne!" he gasped, as she reeled him in and onto what she now realized was a very narrow bed. (She and Sonny had always used his bed, well, and occasionally his car.)

"Yeah?" She kissed and licked his neck a little, making his eyes widen and then roll back a little. She enjoyed his sensitivity but she was starting to worry he was again going to come before she could even get his clothes off.

He reluctantly backed away, stood up, and said, "Let me put my tie on the door so we're not perturbed."

She smiled and nodded. He went over to the closed door, took off his tie, and hung it on the knob. 

"Uh, Len, no one can see it from this side except us."

"Oh, right. I'm a little disorientaled right now." He opened the door, hung his tie on the other side, and shut the door again. "Or should I hang it downstairs?"

"Let's hope everyone else is too distracted to bother us."

He chuckled. "I think you just don't want to let me out of your bedroom before you have your wicked way with me."

She bit her hand in imitation of him, making him laugh more. She grinned, glad that they could still have fun with each other in the old, friendly ways, as they launched into an experience that would take them out of the friend category for good.

He came back to bed and kissed her on the mouth. Then he asked, "Can we make out awhile first?"

She smiled. "Of course. I like makin' out "

"We really do got a lot in common, you know that?"

It was what he said to her when he tried to accept that she loved him as a friend, even though he had a huge crush on her, and they were going to go to a Godzilla movie platonically. She'd told herself she didn't have that special feeling that a guy and a girl could have for each other, but that didn't mean she felt nothing for Lenny.

And as he lightly stroked her face with his fingertips, and his tongue licked her lips, gums, teeth, and tongue, she felt herself shiver. She stopped kissing and whispered hoarsely, "Len, feel my arms!"

"Uh, OK." He caressed her arms, which only made her shiver more. "You've got goosepimples. You wanna get under the covers?"

She decided not to explain, because she didn't want either of them to read too much into it. "Sure."

Her bed was unmade, unlike Shirley's, which still had the hospital corners from six weeks ago. So Lenny didn't have to untuck a blanket to throw it over them, like they were little kids making a fort, or junior-high girls about to whisper secrets at a sleepover. But it was with a man's big but sensitive hands that he started unbuttoning her cowgirl blouse.

"You want me to change into something sexy?" she offered. "I've got stuff from Frederick's of Hollywood."

He bit his lip but shook his head. "Maybe next time. Tonight I want you to be everyday-Laverne-sexy."

He could sometimes pay her huge compliments casually, like when he told her she was smart, pretty, and the classiest girl he knew, or that having to marry her on a coin toss was a win. She never knew what to say, since "Thank you" seemed inadequate and a "You flatter me, Sir" something that only Shirley could get away with. Laverne usually answered him with silence or a wisecrack, neither of which seemed appropriate then.

"Well," she said as she started to unbutton his Hawaiian shirt, "I guess it doesn't really matter, since it's not like we'll be wearing clothes that long."

He groaned in her ear, "Laverne!"

She understood Shirley's protectiveness towards "Leonard." She wanted to tell him to not be so vulnerable, even as she loved that quality in him. Squiggy had a tough little shell around him, like a cockroach, but Lenny was as open as a sunflower. She felt like, as a friend, she'd have to beat herself up if she ever broke his heart.

So she teased, "How do you know there's going to be a next time?", as she stroked his bare chest.

He frowned and said, "Well, I sort of thought we were going out now."

She nuzzled his neck and said, "I think you should ask me to go steady."

"Aren't we too old for that?"

"Nah, not if my pop and Edna weren't." Shirley had thought it was cute but it had taken Laverne awhile to get used to, although by the time her father proposed to her landlady, she was all on board with their relationship.

"Well, OK. Laverne DeFazio, will you go steady with me?"

"I'd love to, Lenny Kosnowski." She meant it. She knew him a lot better than Sonny when she'd rushed into that relationship, and Sonny had never given her goosebumps.

"Yeah?" He grinned. He put his hand over hers, which was over his heart. "Will you marry me?"

"Whoa, slow down, Len!"

"Laverne, we've known each other forever, and you know how I feel about you."

"Yeah, but I'd like to get to know you as a boyfriend, OK?"

He nodded and swallowed. "OK."

"Lenny, don't give me that kicked-puppy look. I am not going to feel sorry for you right now," she said, as she moved their hands over to her bra.

His grin returned, and his other hand peeled off her blouse. He teased her breasts inside her bra, until he unhooked the clasps and then massaged her back as he teased her front without the bra. "You're still shivering," he observed.

"You, you have a, an effect on me," she stuttered.

"Yeah? Even without pot brownies?"

"Yeah," she said, "why do you think I wanna go steady with you?"

He chuckled. "Maybe you were hoping for free guitar lessons."

"Well, I do want to make bee-utiful music with you."

Lenny didn't tell her this was the corniest line in the world, one that Laverne had scoffed at when it came from a dozen guys over the last dozen years. Instead, he sighed, "Oh, Laverne," and scooted down so that he could kiss her breasts. She stroked his blond hair, noticing that for once he hadn't bothered to slick it back, maybe because Squiggy had sprung the revelation about the lads on him so unexpectedly, giving him only enough time to put on a tie and try to look business-like. His ungreased hair was surprisingly soft, mostly straight, but with a side-part that gave his long bangs a wave to the right. They fell in his blue eyes a little as he looked up at her with affection and uncertainty.

She caressed his face with her other hand and told him exactly what to do. He wasn't a virgin but she could tell that he wanted to know what she wanted, and this was not a man she had to change herself or sacrifice her own desires for. She'd make him happy by helping him make her happy.

He had one hand on her left breast as he sucked it and made her come, but his other hand wandered back to her bottom and pushed up her denim miniskirt. It wasn't like the times he'd groped her or stolen kisses, usually with Squiggy's encouragement, but there was a Lenny-sneakiness, like he thought he'd get away with it while she was distracted by an orgasm. She didn't mind. If she was honest with herself, which it looked like she was going to have to start being, she liked that quality in him, too. He wasn't like Officer Norman Hughes, who she could wrap around her little finger. Yes, Lenny was easily influenced by her, but he could also be mischievous, which not enough of her past boyfriends were (other than the out-and-out criminals).

"You can keep the panties this time," she said, so he'd know she was on to him.

She could feel the heat of his blush against her chest. "Thanks," he mumbled, but he did remove them. Then he put them to his face and inhaled.

"Perve," she said affectionately.

"I was just checking the day."

They were her red Friday panties of course. She smiled at the thought of him getting to know all of her underwear by heart, until they were a boring, settled couple. She tossed the blanket to the floor and stood up. She reached for the tie on her wraparound denim skirt, so she could stand naked before him and have him look at her like she was a goddess. (Usually, the first time naked with a guy, even a guy who loved her, she worried about her little stomach paunch and her horse legs, although she was proud of her Gina-Lollobrigida-worthy chest. But Lenny had thought she looked like a queen in a wrestling costume, so she knew he'd like her even better without clothes.)

"Uh, Laverne, could you leave your skirt on?"

She frowned. "Why?" Was her heiney too big? Four years ago, Shirley had ordered a bottom-enhancer, but fashions had changed since then, and Shirley's thinness was more in style now.

Blushing again, Lenny said, "I have this fantasy...."

"Yeah?" she said warily.

"Yeah, you ride me while wearing your cowgirl skirt."

She again affectionately said, "Perve," and she reached for her blouse. She put it on and turned it into a halter top with just the middle button fastened, so she was spilling out of it a little, showing him not just cleavage but the sides of her breasts, as her un-braed nipples poked the red & white checks of the fabric. He bit his hand and she laughed. She came back to bed and gently pushed him onto his back, then she teasingly removed his unbelted jeans. He kept whispering her name like she was driving him crazy and he didn't want her to stop.

But when she started to ease off his Mickey Mouse boxer shorts, exposing his hips, which were one of her favorite parts on a guy, sexy but not the real magilla yet, he put his hands gently over hers and said, "Wait."


	29. Ticket to Ride

She frowned down at him. "You don't wanna no more." Her New York accent thickened, as it sometimes did in moments of strong emotion.

He caressed the strong, beautiful hands of this strong, beautiful girl. "Laverne, I gotta say somethin', but I don't wanna offend ya." The Jersey accent he picked up from his father rose to the surface.

She pulled her hands away. "What?"

"Well, it's not that I think you're a floozy...."

"Oh, I love how this starts."

He made himself keep going. "It's just, well, you were with a rock & roll star, unprotected."

"I told you I'm on the Pill."

"Yeah, but what about," his voice sank to a whisper, "venerable diseases?" He remembered making the Army training film about them, with Squiggy and the girls, although sadly, there were no makeouts.

She smiled. "Oh, is that all? I've got a box of rubbers in my dresser."

He knew he should just feel relief, but he couldn't help sounding a little jealous on "Did you do it with Sonny here?"

"With Shirley home every night? Nah, you're the first guy to be in my bed."

That made him feel a lot better, but he still had to ask, "So why the rubber box?"

She shrugged. "It's good to be prepared."

He nodded as it sunk in. He might be inside Laverne in a couple minutes! Even though they'd talked about it that night, it hadn't seemed real until then. He was glad she had rubbers, because he hadn't wanted to go down to his apartment and borrow some from Squiggy's briefcase.

He ogled her as she went to her dresser. He of course wanted to see her naked, but he liked knowing she wasn't wearing a bra or panties, just her waitress uniform.

Then she came back to the bed, the skirt swishing around her thighs. She had an unwrapped rubber in one hand, he had no idea what brand, not that it really mattered.

She knelt on the bed and took off his boxers. He liked that they were undressing each other. It showed that they were comfortable with each other, but it was sexy, too.

"Mmm, Len," she murmured, as she held his stiffness with one hand and rolled the rubber down with the other.

"Laverne," he breathed, wanting to say so much to her, when every word failed him except that one.

Then she put a long leg on either side of him and eased and teased her way down onto him. It was a cliche, but it really was a dream come true. He closed his eyes in bliss.

"Look at me, Len," she whispered.

So he looked at the girl he always wanted to look at, so sexy as she began to ride him. At first, she was silly and playful, whispering, "Yee-ha!" and "Giddy up!" But when he caressed her bare stomach and the exposed parts of her chest, she shivered and then really started to grind on him. He thrust back, giving himself to her, for her to fill herself up with.

He watched her face, which wasn't guarded like usual. Her green eyes would sometimes flash like emeralds and other times gently roll like a reedy lake in a breeze.

Her mouth, which could be like a weapon, looked softened by his kisses, even as she gasped his name and the word "good." She wasn't telling him what to do in words now, but he observed what he could and tried to give her what she needed, from tenderly stroking her neck to teasing her blouse open again.

He especially watched her face as she came on him, crying his name. Afterwards, he wanted her to lie on him, so he could hold her and kiss her, but instead she turned her back to him.

"Laverne?" he whispered, as she mounted him again but this time facing away. He liked this angle, too, although he missed her face.

"Lenny, can you bend one of your legs?"

"Uh, sure." He had no idea why she wanted this, but he was happy to oblige.

She stroked his bent leg until she reached his favorite argyle sock.

He gasped her name as he realized what she was up to. She was going to give him a foot massage during voe-dee-oh-doe! He was the luckiest guy in the world.

She removed his sock and rubbed his foot, mostly the sole, where he was most sensitive. He danced inside her pleasure garden, as the walls shifted around him. And then she started sucking his toes.

"Wow, Laverne!" he moaned, and then he came suddenly, deep inside her from below, his hands squeezing her butt.

"Yes, Lenny!" she moaned back, as her body answered his.

Then she got out of bed, took off his rubber, and headed to the bathroom. She could be so practical sometimes, which he normally admired, but right then he wanted her to lie on top of him so they could hold each other. He couldn't help thinking that if Carmine and Shirley had finally done it, which he suspected they had, she would've stayed in bed. Then again, Shirley definitely wouldn't have pleasured anyone's foot, especially during sex.

He heard water running and then the sound of Laverne brushing her teeth. Her mouth had tasted delicious to him, but maybe she was worried about her breath since she hadn't had any dinner. (He felt a little bit bad for her that she'd missed a chance to eat at a fancy restaurant, although she hadn't complained about that.) He was thinking about heading down to the kitchen to bring them snacks, when she came back in, stark naked. He couldn't help staring, as he took in every detail he could.

"From that look you're givin' me, I'm guessin' you're not gonna just roll over and go to sleep, huh?"

"Can I sleep over?" he asked eagerly. He would love to give her his morning boner.

She looked tempted but hesitant. "What about Shirley?"

"I think Carmine will have her sleep over with him."

"Yeah? Hm." She looked like she was balancing Shirley's good-girlness, that innocence she still retained despite a drug-induced elopement, with the likelihood that Carmine would offer her comfort over the marriage that Squiggy had shattered for her own good. Then Laverne shrugged and said, "Well, she'll see your tie if she does come back, and she can sleep on the couch."

"So I can sleep in your bed?"

"Yeah, but not yet." She went and got another rubber, leaving it in the package, which he saw was Trojan when she brought it back with her. She set it on the edge of the sink between her bed and Shirley's. Then she played with his hair, which was very mussed already, and said, "I want to have my wicked way with you one more time tonight."

He grinned and said, "My round twos usually last longer than my round ones."

"I can't wait," she said, dangling her chest over his mouth.

He kissed her breasts tenderly but he said, "Can we cuddle for a little bit? I wanna hold you for awhile before we make out again."

She lay next to him and said, "Sure. You like cuddling, don't ya?"

He wrapped his arms around her nakedness. "Yeah, of course."

"Um, I saw you cuddling Squiggy, in the gazebo."

"Yeah, he has trouble sleeping sometimes, and the reefer gas made it worse. Sometimes I'll tell him stories or sing to him, but if it's really bad, I'll hold him until he feels safe. Uh, not naked or anything." 

He was worried she might judge him, but then she rested her head on his chest and said, "I made out with Shirley before she went into hiding."

"Yeah?" He found that exciting but he also felt a little jealous. "How was it?"

"It was fun, but I think it was just us trying to work through our friend-love feelings when we thought we'd never be roommates again."

"Does Carmine know?"

"Maybe that's why she's not home yet. She's going into detail about our makeout."

"Um, how far did you go?"

She shook her head. "Just kissing, like with Malcolm."

"Oh. Um, you've kissed a lot of people." He felt inadequate in comparison, because girls didn't like him nearly as well as men liked Laverne.

"Yeah, but you're the first one I've cowgirled."

He blushed and giggled. And then they started making out while cuddling. It didn't take long for him to get long again, and this time she said, "I want you on top this time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, taking the other rubber out and putting it on him. Then she spread her long legs and he couldn't wait to be between them again.

He thought about lying on top of her, but she lifted her legs like she wanted to rest her feet on his shoulders. As a tall man, he was familiar with this position, and she was a woman who'd had some tall boyfriends. He knelt on the bed and pulled her crotch up and towards his.

"Ooo, Lenny!" she purred.

This angle was really good for long, deep strokes, which seemed to be what she wanted right then, judging from her face, her sounds, and the sea he was swimming in. He went as slow as he could, partly to tease her and partly to keep himself from coming.

"More, Len, please!"

So he kissed one of her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise and then pleasure as he licked her sole.

Then she said, "You have a lot of fetishes."

He blushed. "Yeah, I guess."

She stroked his thighs and said, "They're sweet fetishes at least."

So he pleasured her foot until she came all around him, matching him thrust for thrust.

Then he lay on her and she massaged his butt and licked the nipple over his heart, until he didn't have much choice but to come in her, panting, "I love you, Laverne!"

He braced himself for her wisecrack or silence. She looked up at him and said, "You're really handsome with your hair like this. I didn't want to hurt Squiggy's feelings that day you two showed up and wanted me to say who was better-looking, but you look hunky in a black undershirt and tight jeans. And I could never say, 'Nice body, Len,' not in front of Shirley. And you're the sweetest, funniest, funnest guy I know. And you still owe me five bucks from when you bet on Godzilla in _King Kong vs. Godzilla._ "

"I knew the ending," he confessed. "Squiggy told me."

She shook her head, tickling his chest a little with her fluffy hair. "You big dope. Get off me so I can go reheat last night's lasagna for us to eat in bed."

Lenny rolled off of her with an enormous grin on his face. Laverne had given him a declaration of true love, and his life was complete.


	30. And in the End....

The short version: Shirley's second husband wasn't a rock & roll star, because he was more of an old-fashioned song & dance man. Laverne's only husband never became famous, although he continued to be almost as devoted to rock music as he was to Laverne. And Squiggy's first wife sang but was more famous for her acting and modeling.

The slightly longer version: After getting it in writing that London's Bridges and Rhonda Lee would costar in an Andrew-Squigman-written major motion picture, Rhonda celebrated with her new agent and a jar of honey. They eloped to Las Vegas a week before Shirley's annulment became final. The film would never be made, however, because the band's next album bombed and they faded back into obscurity and Lamberhurst. Luckily, Squiggy had other schemes for Rhonda up his sleeve, including a gig as a Vegas showgirl.

When Squiggy moved in with his wife, and Shirley moved in with her husband, Laverne wanted Lenny to move in with her, but he thought they should get married rather than live in sin. So they got engaged and he officially slept on her couch, which her father pretended to believe. The boys' apartment sat empty until it turned into a nursery for the girls' babies. By the end of the Sixties, Edna joked that the building had become a commune, but Laverne and Shirley explained that it just made sense to all keep living together even after marriage. 

The Squigmans' childless marriage lasted four years, which was longer than anyone, from his Milwaukee-refugee friends to her growing fan club, expected. I know what happened to them in the Seventies and beyond. You don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading a story that ended up a lot longer than I originally intended. Extra thanks to Missy and Shotzette for their encouraging comments.


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